Poetry Corner: Be Free

I remember as a kid I use to stick my middle fingers up to Uncle Sam,

Just hanging with my boys for laughs thinking I was the man.

As I got older I realized I was a coward,

No better than the white man hiding behind sheets screaming Klu Klux Klan.

Ima take stop running and take a stand fight for my reparations,

At the end of the day I’m just trying to feed my fam.

Instead of send me down state to the plantation or hang me in the yard from the tree,

Why must I fight to be free?