The color of her skin 

Fades into a lighter shade.

She dresses different, thinks different,

Even see me different

But why did she live and I didn't?

Why did the color of my skin depress who I am? 

Aren't I just the same? 

How did you see me & saw a black heart

But saw her & felt a good heart?

Would the pacemaker help you see that my heart was just as good as hers?

What’s the point though?

My heart was already filled with blurs of hate.

Blurs of hate that you made grow stronger

Because you made me your bait.

You see people like me and feel threatened.

Crazy how you saw her and didn’t react 

till you saw me in the passenger seat and just knew you were going to get jacked.

Was it my skin that made you “afraid”?

Afraid enough that you had to aim your gun at me?

Oh, “I thought she was reaching for a gun...”

So that’s your excuse to shoot me?

Do you understand you are the reason for my pain?

The reason many black families mourn their lost child, sister, or brother.

You are the reason for a lot of our pain. 

When will this stop?

What if it was reversed and I felt threatened by you?