Blacked Out Part 12: Target Practice

Our existence- the antithesis

To white contentment.

Aftermath of a cultural genocide

A kernel of fear grows inside

Even as I see my nephews smiling wide.

Even if today I tell you I love you,

Nestle you in the crook of my arm,

We can’t help but see the # hashtag-

And know,

Our assumptions ain’t wrong.

Tomorrow stolen from my brother,

Confused as one question bleeds into the other.

They were searching in a video

For a reason to justify:

Even after I carve I hear when you’re quiet into your onyx skin with my eyes,

You were target practice-

Their bullets married into your tissue before you hit the sky.

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