There's Blood In The Streets

Some white guy cooked up the idea that Americans bleed red, white and blue
Frankly speaking, that just isn't true.
I've seen so many Americans bleed,
On the Internet, on tv
And let me tell you there's red in the streets
But white? No.
Lying in the streets, in a pool of his blood is always a black man,
A father, son
But I guess blue is usually there too.
In the form of a uniform,
On the body of an officer.
Put in place to protect us.
I just didn't realize us meant protect us from them
The them party, being everyday Americans whose only "crime" was having a few shades darker skin.

Americans bleed red,
Same as everyone else.
But our streets,
They bleed red, black, and blue.

And no one cares.
Except, 
the "violent rioters",
The people who dare cry out that they matter,
The people who beg that we stop killing them,
The people who demand we say their names and make some change,
We label them violent and threatening
Because they do threaten something.
Not our lives- like we do them- but they threaten to pop our bubble of white security.
Of white pat-yourself-on-the-back-because-Lincoln-abolished-slavery
Of white we-elected-a-black-guy-so-we're-good
Of white I-only-say-nigga-without-the-r
Of white we-have-affirmative-action-and-discrimination-laws-so-really-black-people-are-more-privileged-than-whites

no. shut. up.

Please tell me again, how unprivileged you are as I show you a picture of some rich white rapist getting off free when a poor black man can't even sell CDs.
I don't know if I want to cry or scream.

I miss when I was younger and everything was simple.
Police were good and everyone knew that black or white we were all created equal.
But nap time is over,
And it's time to get woke.
If you think racism is dead,
This is your wake up call,
EXTRA! EXTRA! Read all about it- RACISM IS ALIVE AND THRIVING

There's blood in the streets and it isn't white.
How many shots will be fired before one is finally heard?
Caring is never convenient.
But a worthy fight is never an easy task
And if you bow out now,
Well, you might as well be the one putting bullets in their backs.

 

This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world

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