Haunted

What’s the market price for a black life?
epitaph for Tamir Rice
toss could-have-beens down wishing wells
this strange fruit was only twelve
Sunday dreams for a would be teen
strutting free on hungry streets
basic rhymes on Logic beats
pocket full of sticky sweets
cheeky grins and childish sins
skipping class to chill with kin
oily faced on chicken wings
horizon still holds brighter things
'Ssessing over tik tok dances
3 point miss and second chances
juicy Miss and second glances
Straight up dissed and brethren laughing
Drunken uncles couched on porches
horror stories from the forties
“back then it was horses and torches
Now they got cars and badges”
Reaper said you’re too young bro
should be home on your console
bullet holes right through your torso
I Had a dream I was hunted
No way I could stop it
Gazebo held those final scenes
winter’s snow carpets the greens
said he looked old for his jeans
“black boys often look like fiends”
Pellet gun belonged to friends
like he borrowed someone else’s end
like some else’s sis in cuffs
like some other mother’s heart in knot
What could have been, what could have been?
parking tickets, nothing more
screw-face over evening chores
Miseducation or The Score
The ones who could have made you blush
backseat eyes and cold blood rush
trophy kiss in empty courts
Black and naked like all-sorts
Spring rain and autumn thunder
hungry texts to former lovers
Ghana trip to see the wonders
beach party with brand new brothers
Smiling for a summer god
we find our joy against the odds
holy water over sons
holy water over sons
I Had a dream I was hunted
No way I could stop it