“Black Kids, I’m Sorry”

To the little me(s) of the world–

the kids who look like me, talk like me, and walk like me but will never get the chance to follow their dreams like me; the ones who will never know they are great, beautiful, smart, princes and princesses, future kings and queens.

From your father, mother, sister and brother –

We tell you to go to school but on your way there you’re murdered. We tell you to avoid violence and run but when you run, you are chased and shot dead. Sorry, that the advice we give may cost you your life. Sorry black kids.

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Black KIDS, I’m sorry, we don’t know what to do.

You’re murdered, beaten, arrested, mistreated.

We talk, we educate, we pray.

Black KIDS, I’m sorry, we don’t know what to do.

You take your last breath, and eyes close for the last time, you leave this earth prematurely.

We meet, we cry, we plot.

Black KIDS, I’m sorry, we don’t know what to do.

You never make it to college, or discover what you truly want to do. It takes some of us a lifetime. But for you – there’s not enough time.

Black KIDS I’m sorry, we don’t know what to do.

We’re silent, we’re loud, we’re angry.

You Die, you DIE, you DIE.

We watch the news, we petition, we organize.

You DIE, you DIE, you DIE.

We reminisce on the 60’s and go as far back as slavery.

“We’ve come so far,” “Things are better,” “There has been a change.”

Just as you died then, you die now all the same.

So black Kids, I’m sorry because I don’t know what to do.

You DIE, you DIE, we DIE.

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