I'm Not A Threat Unless Your A Threat To Me

“I’m Not A Threat, Unless Your A Threat To Me”

Why can’t you just let me be

Why are you offended when I decide to take a knee

Why can’t, you see, why we, seem to disagree

Police Bru-tal-ity

A thing that must be foreign to thee

Something that apparently, never popped up in your vocabulary

The phrase you skipped over in the dictionary

You chose to cut off our knowledge, left us limbless, an amputee

Blowing us up, with no hesitation, while holding down the control key

You know who holds the answers, but you choose to leave us empty

You feel, it must be, that every person with pigment in their skin, should live a life with no guarantee

Dancing around our hanging bodies, stringing us up, left there to bleed

And swing from trees

Knowing we cannot breathe

We can never truly be free

Until someone steps up and isn’t ready to just give up and flee

But what is in-timi-dating

Is you stay guarded, like the russian navy

You sip on our pain, like afternoon tea

Gathering us together in ghettos, like mixology

You act very sweet, like a sugar snap pea

While in act-ual-ity

Your the one with no college degree

But lucky for you an education isn’t necessary for you to get ahead

It’s the crispness of your pure white ancestors skin that originally

Brought us to the Caribbean Sea and held us in captivity

Locking us up in cages like animals, with little sen-sua-lity

Spreading your white disease, with the swiftness of a silver jubilee

But systematically, that’s not what you choose to show us on TV

You would rather talk about our chances of contracting Hepatitis B

You fail to inform us, how to truly obtain an academic degree

Instead you buzz false rumors around our heads,

Like an africanized-honey bee

Apparently, you can now reconize and aceept homo-sexuality

But it’s still a problem when you come across a person with darker skin than me

Consistently, stripping us of our culture over many centuries

Your use of idiosyncrasy

Is what truly amazes me

Picking off the fruits of our labor, as one off a banana tree

And yet still, you expect me, to somehow salute thee

When thee is the one making my people flee

We rebel, we riot, we cry, we must die

But you rebel, you riot, you cry, the government smiles

For my name is Trin-i-ty

Don’t you ever forget or undermine me

That name has letters that go up to seven,

Seven is what i’m reppin,

Seven plus 5 equals 12,

And 12 is what keeps sending my people to heaven.

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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