The American dream is a dream all the while.

It's a dream that seems to gleam the fantasy of life, liberty and the pursuit on foot...

I mean of happy. 

Its's a dream that paints a picture of blue skies and 50 stars but stars and scars differ, ya know?

This "picture" you know was only painted with the expectation that no people of.. "color" would be in it.

I would tell you that I took the time to admire the 13 stripes that wave so boldly at the sign of this "AmeriKKKa" we speak of but speaking of America, what makes them better than me?

That picture that was painted, that ink that was written on the Emancipation Proclamation must be in pencil because I didn't know pen could be erased.

It's a disgrace that I have to face a 12 year old boy and tell him that if he tilted his hand just a little to strong the next song or hashtag might be his name.

Its a shame,

that the same people placed to protect and serve don't even deserve to walk down the damn street.

Why they so scared of my skin color?

They hate that my hair curls from water rather than goes straight, they hate the sway in my walk and the passion in my talk they hate themselves so they hate me.

I can say so much but would it ever make a difference?

Picture a boy, walking down the street just to meet his friends and all of a sudden he's faced down screaming I cant breathe, with skittles in his hand or his child in the back seat.

And even worst when the hearse carrying his body is finally dropped into the plot, you motherfu**ers have the nerve to stop and say" Just Hang In There".......

Yet when I go to close my brown instead of blue eyes I picture a black man just hangING there.....