Keeping it 100

He was a gentle giant Not really doing anything wrong That required four to one.He was already in handcuffsAnd was on the groundBut they decided to put pressure on his neck."I can't breathe!" He cried."Please, he's going to kill me!" He screamed. Four armed men made sure that others couldn't help. But what about now?How am I supposed to feel? Minneapolis is in a state of pain and hurt.  What the fuck am I even doing. I'm hurt and I'm scared for my family and my own life. I want more awareness, because that was a fucking life that officer took. His eyes were burning holes in mine and I wasn't even there. What the fuck are we doing? I thought this was 20 fucking 20 and that it was okay to be black. Fuck, it doesn't seem to be okay to be anything.It makes me hate every part of myself. I'm sorry. This isn't me. I'm just hurting right now. No one seems to realize that this isn't new, we just started recording it. I'm sorry, this is a mess. Who am I supposed to call when I need help? I wish the Avengers were real. And that I was invincible. And that justice was served the way it should be. And that a West Point grad knew how to use words better than: "I'm very very sad." or "It was a very bad thing." Bitch, it was murder. Call it was it is. Sorry. I'm not okay. When did we start being a color and stop just being Americans?

This poem is about: 
My country
Our world

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