Black Lives Matter (But Not To Them)


I bet you’ll pull your gun
when I speak up
but you won’t shoot
simply because I look like you.

But I am not you. There’s a difference.
I shoot a gun, I get 25 to life.
You shoot a gun, and nobody puts up a fight.

And if you take that badge off, 
you’re a murderer.
Imagine the fear that teacher had
when you pulled your gun and raped her.

You choked that man to death 
because you could,
but if you can take Timothy McVey alive,
why was that man deprived from life?

You shot a man nine times
and had the audacity to cuff him when he was dead!
And you shot Mike Brown several times,
once fatally to the head.

I met George Zimmerman on the street the other day.
Funny thing is, he looks like you.
And Trayvon Martin? I met him, too.
Only now, he’s standing up to you.

And he’s not the only one 
who’s done with this treatment.
To everyone with sympathetic eyes,
you make them sick.

But no one’s opinion
matters to you.
Words don’t mean anything
unless they’re uttered by a rich, white man whose bank account cha-chings.

And to the men up in Congress,
ready to take away my rights,
I hope you’re ready for this fight.

My body, my choices.
If I’m a murderer for aborting a fetus,
what are you for killing
all those innocent children?

But you’ve done no wrong!
You acted in self-defense!
Well, what about those battered women
who shot their partners for the same reason?

Why are they in jail 
while you’re not?
Why are you walking free
while they’re left to rot?

America the great,

only for a select few.

The rest of us are doomed.

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world


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