Poems · Uncategorized

Untitled (U.S.)

There is a blur of faces and only colors

The color of my skin or the style of my clothes

The way in which I speak or need the company

I need the money, no, yes, I need the money

When money won’t set me free

There is a blur of emotions coming up for me

When I see the people dying on the streets

The way in which they hide their identity

Hiding from the cops, hiding from what they see

Its on the news, its on the radio

Its labeled on the things you care about

Built a wall to keep us off

Built a wall to send us over it

Built a wall to keep control

But you still want our drugs over your wall

You still want the labor we provide

You still want the things that we provide

Except to say we are human like you are

You are so mean

You are so pissed

To see the color of my skin

The color of my culture

The people that work hard just to make it further

I don’t care about the hurt

If it keeps me here

Thats not true

I hurt in every single tear

I don’t want to go back to a land I was never part of

I don’t want to go to a country I never lived on

I don’t want to go away from this place I call my home

I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go

Don’t look at my color

 

 

 

 

 

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