The Struggle

Could you honestly tell me what it is you know 
About the constant struggle of being a negro
In a time where diversification is the new trend 
Why couldn’t me and my people get in 
Held captive by captains of this newly formed allegiance 
I must make everything come from nothing 
So my family continues eating 
Begging and pleading with a broken system has been the issue 
Black mothers stand over the pine boxes 
and tell their sons I’ll miss you 
and before she has a chance to reach for her tissue
Reality starts to run down both of her cheeks 
Her son has become a statistic like 80% of the street 
Unfortunately, this part we rarely ever see
Were being silenced by the violence 
So what’s the point in trying to speak 
I lost my uncle to a coward who couldn’t function with out a fix 
Another black man off the board before the age of twenty-six 
But he was born into this 
and in a sense 
his innocence 
Imagination and drive 
Were merely placed off to the side
so he could survive 
I could see in his eyes 
he was tired of running 
but he’s black and just for that 
you must keep your head on a swivel 
Stay close to the ones you love 
But learn to create a distance 
It can be taken just as quick as it’s given