Review of America: 2018
America always was America to Me.
From the day I was born, til this year of 23
It’s always been clear to see
My color would always be the first limit placed on me.
Then resources,
Time,
And Motivation;
As if 500 years and counting, plus everything on land surrounding, still isn’t enough qualification?
No matter how many jobs I’ve ever had, or how much good I overwrite bad, it’s only enough for condemnation.
I just can’t figure out
How all positivity and excellence I bring about
Is only seen as “The Black Demonstration”.
Like Damn, y’all really out here color-coding success, but did you even get a good look at me?
Y’all see a Brigga trying to unshackle his mind, but still throwing away the key
And wonder why Briggas always light Tree, cus for a few hours we actually feel free.
[Do y’all even know what I mean?]
I know all this talk of oppression, sounds more depressing, but can I just ask 1 more question?
When can I ever walk to my car without knowing someone else feels threatened?
Here’s another one: Why does America see “Walking while Black” as Walking with a Weapon?
I’ve traveled half the country and still walked the same lesson…
America will always be America to Me.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.