Each year over

My hope is to convert
All these myopic children
Into far sighted Gods
rich in mental
And fully aware
Of their surroundings
Because we all can swim
In this ocean of immorality
But with all this ignorance
Look at us here, drowning
Descending
Repeatedly
On these streets
Beside the sidewalks
Next to the buildings
Adjacent to the houses
And all of outside is
Enclosed by the cool wind
Along side these corners
Where our black men reside
Lynching themselves over
and over again
each year
hang man
Is dangling from
The rope of modern day
Slavery
Again
This year like all the others
And this year,
Like last
All the mothers asked
themselves what
did
they
do
In hopes to convert
all their myopic children
Into far sighted Gods
Rich in mental
Look at us here drowning, Mothers

you only write once scholarship slam