My blackness doesn’t elucidate my serendipity;
media created to invalidate my sensitivity.
Humanity used to discredit my productivity,
instilling innocent minds with hatred.
Telling innocent minds we deserve to be hated.
Since I wore my hoodie over my head,
now I’m praying with a gun to my head.
Yet we’re told we bring this upon ourselves,
so we apologize for being ourselves.
Making our ancestors turn over in their graves,
despite humanity’s desire for us to be enslaved.
Assured that this battle will come to an end,
therefore we no longer feel compelled to pretend.
My blackness doesn’t elucidate my serendipity.
