Black folks so afraid to admit that they afraid

Oxymoron;

Contradiction

We don’t pay attention

I’m afraid that if I get passionate

Will they put a price tag on my ass?

My frustration put a hole in the glass

Two dents in my wall

If these walls could talk

They’d start singing lullabies for the nights I lost sleep

PTSD from the day they called backup just for me

I had scars on my neck

I had a slash down my back

I looked like Dred Scott in court under attack

If my passion gets ahead of me

Will they start beheading me?

I was 17 still thinking bout my legacy

Word to Stevie Wonder I don’t know what’s ahead of me

Black folks swear to God they ain’t afraid

Contradiction;

Oxymoron

The first time I seen a gun drawn

Was sitting in the passenger seat

Couldn’t wrap my mind around where the hell I could be

My momma prolly hate me

She met my pops through poetry

Now look at me—

Every time I write is when you start to notice me

I used to live with her back when I was songwriting

Now I’m breaking down the stanzas talking ’bout Joe Biden

I had to switch it up

My mind was on the move like vehicular

I didn’t wanna be a rapper

Nah, too particular

My momma prolly hate me cause im doing the same

The only difference is I got the same face, different name

My pops poetry ain’t shifting like the way mine’s will

My rhyme schemes gon’ blow minds like the way mine’s will

I made a name for myself—

If I have too much passion

Will the world use aggression for reaction?

Or put a price tag on my ass?

Capitalize and use my lines for hashtags

I can’t compromise myself

Cause that’s all that I got.

911 ain’t gon save me

We get killed by the cops

Baltimore Beat publishes poems from participants in the group Writers in Baltimore Schools, which offers programming that builds skills in literacy and communication while creating a community of support for young writers.