By Imanee Magee
Some say the blacker the berry,
the sweeter the juice.
Well from a cop’s point of view
I’m a dangerous hue.
This black skin that I’m in is a sin to
these blue men
Hiding fear of our unity behind the
law of impunity
The TV sees me as a flea to society-
Civil rights crippled with my brittle
grip on these skittles,
Black dung slung in the rung of mass
incarceration,
5 years young amongst the sun and
he’s stung in the lung- “Hold my tongue?”
I’m done.
This target branded on my back
Burns like the bullet shot through my
soul for being Black.
With my people under attack,
how can I not fear for my soul?
I can barely be whole trying to fit in
massa’s mold
The end is coming near.
I can hear it, ringing through these
streets
Cries from mamas burying their
babies under bed sheets,
Juries freeing killers playing dress up
as police,
Brothers not coming home, what do I
even tell my niece?
What must I do for you to see my
humanity?
Must i bleed, must i plead, must i
concede?