I heard it
I felt the pain
My walk of shame
I delt it
My eyes are strained
The violence is insane
I saw it
Bullet shots straight to my veins;
Loved ones shouting for my name
I heard them
Your skills are wack
Because you're black
I heard itSo.
I faced it...
My gun is filled
with bullets of steal
I felt the...
Touch of this piece
Feels so surreal
I thought that...
Shooting to kill
Would change how I feel
Just facts!So.
That's me,
Finding my way
changing the script of my play
Hoping I make a change
Assuring that the ones I love are okay
I'm rich in melanin,
so they won't show me love, babeDown with my pride;
Not keen to rebel
Killing a white child,
-- won't win me no NobelAs much hate you give,
Is twice the love we'll forgive;
But that still does not mean
That I'll let my life be ended
--By a cop called SteveI won't be mad,
If y'all stop making us so sad
So with a bit of change,
-- we'll be gladSo...
I heard it
I felt the pain
My walk of shame
I delt it
My eyes are strained
The violence is insane
I saw it
Bullet shots straight to my veins;
Loved ones shouting for my name
I heard them
Your skills are wack
Because you're black
I heard itWe bleed the same
We see the same
It feels okay,
to ease the the pain
With Ecstasy
Just to make everyone love me
By pleasing others not giving two shvts about meMy eyes are still in defeat
The news always seems to deceive:The pain I received
From hearing about gender - based violence,
And my brother who's face kissed the concreteBecause of your red face that shows rage,
and silver bullets in which the victim paid his taxes for
And who the jurisdiction always wanna cover forAnd truly I don't know what in this world do we settle for
When really our lives are all covered up in metaphorsSo......
I heard it
I felt the pain
My walk of shame
I delt it
My eyes are strained
The violence is insane
I saw it
Bullet shots straight to my veins
Loved ones shouting for my name
I heard them
Your skills are wack
Because you're black
I heard it.
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YOU ARE READING
Confusion Of Happiness
PoetryA 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.