ONE

Hello, Hello can I please tell you how much it bothers me ?

Seeing us as brothers and sisters treating one another like a common enemy. Yes I said brothers and sisters, and no it doesn't stand for just balck on black. But every race. Because we are brothers and sisters inhabitants of this BIG GREEN PLANET. Nothng sets that apart. 

This was war from the start...Only now our generationis getting picked apart. Because we are suffering from the lifestyles of those who thinks it's okay, feeding poison into the brains of these little kids from the start. Then when they grow up they'll be framed. From a word that they thought was okay, putting it into play. 

Killing, Murdering,and Hating. A crime. The police might not even lock them up. Lie to the people say they'll get time. Rewind back, like it's the First 48, when you were slapped a deal to keep who really did it, or influenced it, Zipped and Sealed.

Our young people thinking it's okay to steal. And not what you're thinking. NO ! Not a store, a house, or bank. But stealing from the pursuit of happiness, stealing from freedom, stealing frm peace, stealing from equality, stealing love.

And please, I beg tell me you didn't just stereotype. Between black and white. Because we all sin the same. So let's please not sit here and frame, and put the blame on ONE another. Because that's what's gonna make little Johnny blast, and little Reggie harrass. And the cops get called, and there goes another statistic behind bars.

Education is not even a thought anymre, because my generation rather be on the streets rioting. For something they believe in. Because they're tired of seeing another mother on her knees crying each weekend.

Because Reggie decided to go out on a Saturdsy evening to pick up some Ramen Noodles. Instead he was racially profiled. Cops try to arrest him, he doesn't understand what's going on or what he did. He resists. He's shot. Without any hesistation. As he lays there lifeless, bleeding from his chest.

 In less than 45 minutes, his mother learns the news of her sons death. "Mrs. Johnson, your son has been shot dead." There's another mother putting her child to rest. 

I bet if it was little Jack, it wouldn't have even went down like that. Jack would've gotten a chance to purchase his product, the cops would've asked if he's alright ? Maybe even have offered him a ride. Jack walkd into his home with pride. And his mother smiles. She didn't lose a son tonight.

No, I am not making this a conflict, but let's go by facts. My people are dying because of their color. You maybe White, Indian,Spanish, Mixed. But we're all sisters and brothers. 2015 isn't the year I thought it'll be. Propaganda playing out to all of these countries like America is all great. When everyday feels like Iraq, with all this hate.

It's starting to feel like 1968. All these unnecessary crimes, and innocent people doing time. And the suspects walking free as they please.

I want there to be peace and harmony. For this country. Please. I maybe too wise before my time, but this right here is survival. And this right here is what we live everyday. I am proud to be black without any shame.

We are one, at the end of the day. Cause when you bleed, I bleed too. Same color. When you cry, I cry too. Same water. When you die, I die too. Same coffin. And when you're buried, I am buried too. Sam hole.

ONE.

-Kia Robinson

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Our world

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741