My Struggles Realized, Desensitized

My back hurts it stings.

I'm a miniscule part of my society, but everytime I see them fall I ache -- I seethe.

A pain no medicine can ever relieve because no morphine can stop the pain of broken hearts, worlds that have been torn apart.

I am such a small part of a large group of people, yet my back burns in agony at the sight of discrimination.

It's my kryptonite. It destroys a nation, but its the newest part of our fresh generation.

Racism, discrimination the newest trend. The reason the bloodshed will never end.

But this community will amend, will not offend. We will ascend.

This enormous people that I am a fraction of makes me cry out in pain when I see them suffer. 

The suburban life is not enough to create a buffer.

Society too righteous to stand beside us blacks because of our fuss.

Our fuss over equality is just too much. They just can't handle deviating to our world and such.

Can't see out struggle and don't wanna hear complaining.

Turn girls to women, boys to men prepare them for the training because it's rough out there.

Especially when the world doesn't expect you go anywhere or do anything unless you can dribble or sing.

It's madness. It's maddening. We've seen it happen. It's saddening.

It's hard to keep up morale because you fight this fight alone, pal.

I don't know if it is the fear or the pain, but God knows we will not fail in vain.

No killing of Martin Luther or Wharlest Jackson can prevent us from taking action.

We rise up with strength unprecedented because a black man's place in society is resented.

Our education system is broken. Black icons are denied of being spoken.

They are living to put us down -- let our bodies rot in the ground.

Their mind is their oppression. Our mind, Our faith is our blessing. 

We will rise despite the obstacles. We shall become the philosophical.


It's depression.

The way they kill kids because of oppression. 

We live in such fear. We're always guessing.

When will they shoot up the next section.

Murder the blacks is the latest obsession.

Deep roots in blood like the latest infection.

We pray for our brothers resurrection.

And pray to God to give his blessing.

And pray to him for his correction. 

It's an obsession.


I can't help the fact that I'm black.

I didn't ask to be like this.

Don't understand how my looks or hair could offend the whitest.

They put us down as light is righteous.

As if my color can change our likeness.

Act like my race is in a crisis.

Like we shop for free despite the prices or we don't produce the best and brightest.

I'm so done with the niceness. 

Been followed around a store more times than I can count, while the group of white kids fill their pockets and shuffle out.

We've been persecuted because they say we're no good.

Peaceful protest on the daily and we still ain't understood.

We're fed up with the peace and sit-ins.

Being killed in the streets and we still ain't victims.


We have a whole race backpacking off of accidents when its really not the half of it.

Assassinating assassins, destroying the base of what's established. 

Turned to see what's happened and there's a shot in your back kid.

Acyive activists not so active, embodiment more so passive.

Changer changing not so rapid and racists racism all too classic.


I am such a tiny instrument of a community and I'm tired of having my back hurt.

White man's confines confine me to dirt.

Can't come up for air, I'm trapped in earth.

They don't see how their words destroy my worth.

They didn't have to strip me and whip me naked.

Even without the welts, the bruises, the blood, the flesh, the wound.

My back is still aching.


But it doesn't have to be this way.

I don't have to ache. 

We can rise as one today for there's no need to break.

Blacks and white are one in the same be that as it may.

As a combined forced to be never tamed, we form to make a grey.

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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