Black Girl in White America.

White America:What makes me so angry

An open letter to white America

From a black girl living in America

The white man sat his hand on his head.

As another another one of my brothers was found dead.

My arms were crossed as I gave him a look.

One that has been recorded in history books.

He smiled at me as if he didn't have a clue.

Of all the suffering he put my people through.

And then he asked me. "What makes you so angry"

I scoffed in response like he couldn't already see.

That he was the cage keeping me from being free.

And I wondered how he could say it with such glee.

As if he didn't think "damn another dead because of me"

My anger is fueled by the cringing thought of strange hanging fruit.

The same thought that sends my brother shivering in his boots at just the mere thought of you.

I try white America I truly do.

But I am done with not standing up to all the pain you put my people through.

That's my anger and its filled to the brim

This ain't a game of chess we either sink or swim.

But it's pretty hard to swim with 2 bullets in the head

When another young black kid winds up dead.

This ain't just for me but for the next generation

You see this ain't an attack or war but a retaliation.

Its time to take force cause it seems my voice isn't heard.

I am tired of trying to get you to free my bird.

I am angry that I can't seem to be smart without it being a surprise.

Is it so hard to believe that a black female can be pretty wise.

Do you expect me to grin put a smile on my face.

I am angry that the once a large community of blacks became a dying race.

I am angry that the N word is still used by the generation of today.

I am angry that we brush it off as if it isn't a discriminatory word to say.

I am angry that you say all lives matter when your race isn't the one dying.

I am angry that you shake your head when I speak the truth and sell it out to be lying.

I am angry that I can't be angry without being the stereotypical black woman.

Well how do you expect me to act since I'm still only "three fifths human."

I am angry that you are poisoning the youth like an infection.

That my future baby boy will grow up trying not to get shot from every direction.

I am angry for being followed around stores for "supposedly" being suspicious.

Does it come as a surprise that maybe not all black people are vicious

I am angry that you judge me because of someone else's bad choice.

Our color doesn't define us we have our own voice.

I am angry that you always make yourself out to be the victim

Tell me when's the last time that a white man has died at the hands of a black policeman.

I am angry about the fact that angry is what I have to be.

And pissed the fuck off off that you even had to ask me.