I cry for the many who never got their fair fight.
Their unjust murders keep me up at night.
I want to be angry, but what can I do?
Righteousness has come for none but a few.
I think negative thoughts of possible revenge.
Hate fills my blood.
Rage sets in.
Tears down my cheek as anxiety taunts.
Then I think that’s not want they would want.
My black soul is their black souls.
My tribe of the lost.
My black soul is their black souls.
A tribe that continually pays the cost.
My black soul is there,
I will remember it within.
Your pain will not be forgotten;
it’s written in my skin.
My DNA cannot be replaced;
it’s in a fragile state of recognition.
My black soul is here.
I will honor it with love;
NO CONDITIONS.