Who are we?

Are we thugs, gangsters, outlaws?

Or are we heroes…

Always fighting for a country that doesn’t love us back?

A country that has yet to face its history,

A country that is destined to repeat its mistakes…

If nothing changes.

We are commonly created,

One country, one body, with many parts,

When one part is in pain, the whole body suffers.

We are needed more than ever,

In a nation, split by race and hatred.

Hatred for the other side,

Believing that their opinions must be lies.

Hatred for the opposition,

Saying it must be wrong, if it’s not my opinion.

Hatred for opposing views,

Claiming I can’t agree, I must refuse.

So quick to hate,

But so reluctant to love.

Reluctant to love the black on my skin.

Resistant to acknowledge the pain we’ve been through.

What if we were quicker to listen and slower to judge?

Maybe we could get a little closer to each other — and a lot better at love.