as we prayed for continuity
our words faced our struggle,
but...
still questioned our genuinety
we still put our heads high and stand up for rights,
but they always find ways to tick of our wrongs;
them "popos" gives our African brothers frieghts,
- giving them the impression of even if they're talented,
they're skin says they have flaws.
guns emerge the vulnerable
but only in the sense of maybe or maybe not....
we are criminals
We are angry,
- we cannot truly stand up with hands,
but we put on our fight game verbally
And who are they to approve?
they're only language is rage and guns
they find it hard to negotiate
- but scaring us is how they think they say it straight.
and all breaks loose in the land of America!
It's so hard for us to take,
these hurtfull words they break -------
to us,it's not okay,
to spill my blood because of your mistakes
I thought Freedom would atleast give us a break.
my fears were the ones that entitled me
my tears turned me to misogyny
blaming my "sheroe" for the problems within
from my white boss where I've received defeat
waiting for my promotion,
so then meaningless meltdowns seemed to redefine me
trying to find the key of this door that's open wide
so then maybe I've realized
to show my bits of insecurities and not hide
my pain and struggle from this genocide
so maybe I wanted for y'all to see,
this ink that spilled into a prophecy
in 1994, they gave us democracy,
--it seems there's still some sort of a genocide philosophy.
YOU ARE READING
Confusion Of Happiness
PuisiA beautiful exposure to the roughness and beautiful emotional intensity of a young boy . A cry for help, but yet a better understanding of one's feelings -- both internal and external.