Gather around, take a knee, listen and hear,
My stories of sorrow, and our own trail of tears.
What is it they don't get I wonder? What is it they can't understand?
That all lives do matter, but yet they don't for a black man.
How do I appropriately display my black anger, in a way that doesn't breed hate?
How can I adequately portray my frustration, in a way that the majority can relate?
How could they even begin to understand, the life lived in just one day?
To wake up so mad at the world, and yet have to put that anger away.
Go to work Black man, put on your suit and your tie,
Smile in the face of the white man, be respectful, be polite.
All while hiding the anger inside, wondering if you're sacrificing your pride.
Because you know that doing things right,  doesn't really matter, you're still likely to die
Take a knee young man, listen to my tales,
Of being black in a world, systematically set for you to fail.
What could I possibly say, that they don't already know?
It's all over the news, it's all that they show.
And yet somehow you still find ways to make just,
That this was a black man, whom no one could trust.
You demand our patriotism, to a country of the free,
That enslaved us to trade us, We the people, who is we?
We weren't a part of the constitution, our rights weren't included,
The national anthem wasn't written for us, it's just words, just music.
Bombarded by opinions, words with no action,
I find solace in the shadows, in silence there is satisfaction.
You can log off from the web, but I can't log off from life.
The days will continue on, and my black anger I'll have to fight.
Take a knee young man, and observe the world you see.
Standing for what you believe is hard, but not standing seems harder to me.
Where can I place my black anger, where can I bury this rage?
Where can I harness this feeling, that I spill onto the page?
You can't understand the Fences, of an August Wilson in play..
Nor adapt to the reasoning, of Why a Caged Bird Sings.
How do I explain oppression to the unoppressed?
Like a rainbow to the blind?
Or make the deaf understand pain,
If they can't hear a mother crying?
What do I do with this black anger, this heavy burden that I bear?
What do I do with my black anger, when I see that they don't care?
Take a knee young man, such a deathly weight to uphold,
Being black is so beautiful, so beautiful and so cold.


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