I just keep walking and I dont know my destination and all I have with me are my aspirations and they reside in my hoodie pocket.
Right now I'm walking on the side of town where dreams become reality with no false accusations.
I hear my cry and I feel my tears, but I hold them back at gun point just to be strong for others.
But the pretty girl with the beautiful smile has to cry sometimes too.
Sometimes I wonder if I'm all used up.
I just don't understand what else I have to go through before I give up.
I watch as my tears fall to the ground and mix in with last nights rain, slowly loosing their relevance.
And it makes me begin to wonder, how many other tears has the earth soaked up right along with the truth.
Where's my person that will love me and respect my ambition?
I was taking up a great spot that could have been given to one of their children, but I deserve it.
I WORKED FOR IT.
The more I work the less I'm rewarded.
It seems the only thing that can remove my mascara is my tears,
But they keep telling me that racism does not exist and that segregation is demolished.
Bullshit!
So, I guess that's why I'm black.
We were bred to handle pain and endure pressure; but, this time it's not slavery, it's life.
You can't be black AND innocent.
And when I thought my day would be filled with nothing but darkness, the sun returns to shine upon me.
I will survive.
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