I sit here
And my heart beat speeds
Angry at myself because I should be saying something
I should be doing something
But I don’t know if I’ve developed a stone wall of immunity to injustice
Or if I’m still in shock
Lifeless bodies are continually strewn across screens small and large
And some of us have forgotten to even quiver our top lip
Or cry
They’ve made us into robots
Today in the news another brown boy gone
As if we haven’t lost enough already
And we sit
And we watch
And we fight
And we cry
And we fight
And we watch
And we sit
And we die
And we’re angry
Because we’re tired of dying
Fed up with being fed up with being told that we won’t ever be no more
Only less
Our brown boys’ bodies rendered invaluable because no matter how much we teach them to be young, black and gifted
They get reminded by bullets intended to pierce their dreams
that they are not supposed to be here
That as long as they stay in their place
Things will be just fine
But ain’t nobody made a place for them here
Nobody told them that they were welcomed
The only conversations they’ve had are with God right before they took their last breaths,
begging that if it ain’t no place for them here
then certainly it’s a special spot reserved for them in heaven

©R.Byrd Poetry