307 Springdale Ct
United States
39° 24' 11.4912" N, 76° 20' 36.1248" W

Hunters will set up blinds

 In woods

 So the prey

Being hunted

Will get use to what seems foreign.

 I wonder

If they know their getting use to

Their killer


We are accustomed

As ammo aimed

 At angels


 All around




 Will patrol cities

 So the civilians

 Feel safe

 Within the community,

 Although the ones

 Protecting you,

 Look nothing like you,

 I wonder

If they know their getting use to

Their killer


Born beautiful,

Blackness battles back

 Bad behavior,

 But bloody background

Bottles black bodies

 Because bullets blast

 Brothers being broken

 By beast bearing blue


That’s a lot of B’s

 But bear with me


If life is a game,

 And we are its game

 Then who the hell

 Are the hunters?

 The ones with guns,

And a disguise

That pledges



 And blue

 Wanting to see us bleed red

 Our shooter white,

 And our hands go blue


African Americans



As animals


Black boys,

Bruised, by


 And I know

 I said I would stop with the damn B’s

 But after B comes C


 I C coffins

 Carrying colored


 Before bodies

 Are in them


I guess,

 Killing blacks are as

Easy as




 See like

 Dark fruit is nice

But police

Would rather see the juice

Spilling from your veins


It makes me realize,

 That I don’t want to be

 Good at math

 I don’t want to be good

 At making a statistic


But what

 Else can

We expect

When the city

 Is an equation

 And we

Are the problem

They are desperately

Trying to solve


While their son’s backs

 Meet beds

 In the middle of the night

 My brother’s backs



So don’t ask me

 How’s it feel to paint the town red

 Cause I know souls

 That can tell you


You dream of Freddy

 Or Jason chasing you


I dream of running

From cops

 To stay alive


The only difference

Is that

 When I wake up

Those dreams

Still follow



Down dark streets,

 Into gated communities,

 And even to my own front porch


PETA loves protecting endangered animals

So when will

 Someone protect


Black children


When will


Be given

My rights


Instead of having

 Them read to me


Instead of tattooing pieces

 Of paper

 To write poems

 About problems

You know exist


We use ink

 To draw


Because you can find peace in heart

 By making pieces of art


The word unity

Has been replaced by prison

 So the community

Has no value

 Just common

 Traits of jails


And no

 I have never been there

 Nor has Eric Garner,

 Or Michael Brown

 Or Jonathan Garret


 Lost in translation

 Because police

Don’t speak


 When we say innocent

 With hands pointed towards the sky

Like we want God to take us

 Before the bullet does


But it’s bigger than that,

 Bigger than a few names.

 We make profit off these prophecies

 Like we did with Trayvon

When will we be with the movement

 And not the moment


Like when I leave my house,

 It’s like I’m going to another cell block,

 Constantly being watched

 When did looking like a criminal

 And being one

 Become the exact same thing


Cause if I stray too far

From my boundaries

You’ll find-these



 In a casket


I don’t know when I will die

 But Take a picture

 It’ll last longer than

The life expectancy

 Of black children

 In the city


So when you hold the barrel

 Of your lens at their face

 Like the crater

You are aiming at can

Swallow bullets just like

 It swallows


Ever second sirens


 Just remind them

 To smile


Cause if they gunned me down,

What picture would they use,

To remember me?


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741