Being Black

Being black is like walking a field full of land mines 
You walk carefully tip toing around fools that cannot see your worth 
You told to forget the history that gave you birth
That gave birth to the circumstances that shape you 
And if you dare to take a stand 
And show the broken heart that time can never mend
You are shut down by endless bureaucratic laws 
That were never written to protect you 
They were written to enslave you 
To keep you in check so that you can never get up 
And tear off the seal that would release you from their clutches 
You try to transcend the boundaries 
That have kept you from roaming free 
And learning from cultures that know differently from you
But reality is being black is like walking in fields full of land mines 
And with every step you pray that you do not hear that click
Because that sound spells the death of you 
It spells the death of a blood line that ends with you 
Being black is a constant struggle to overcome barriers 
Overcoming barriers that reveal more barriers to keep you fatigued 
And overwhelmed at the sheer magnitude of obstacles 
Meant to keep you down, obedient and a slave 
To desires that do not come from you 
Desires that are not of you and do not benefit you 
But benefit the monsters with closets full of skeletons 
And in one of those closets is a space for you 
Being black is like walking in fields full of land mines 
Land mines to prevent your transcendence