McKenzie Curtis
A Cycle
They don’t tell black babies they’re not enough
That would be too polite
Instead they let them grow and subtly lead them
To the destruction of themselves
A little girl walks down the aisle
A sea of whiteness floods her head
She takes the doll home and turns on the TV and can’t
Seem to see herself in the reflection
Let Them Cry
I rarely seen black boys cry before but I have
seen them die before
Bullets rain easier than tears
Blood makes more sense than their fears
I would rather see humanity drop from their faces
than see blood splattered on shoe laces
to see their bodies displayed on the pavement
like meat in the butcher shop
their steel ribcages guarding the heart
like it won’t break
like it won’t stop when the gunshot whistles its tune
But when a mother wails her melodious grief
the metal melted
and a tear falls down his cheek as he fights
for life and freedom
all in the same breath
SHOUT 