I Didn’t Mean To Write About Trayvon Martin

Trayvon Martin

I’m not sure how to say this
But I feel compelled to try
Maybe if I just say it
You’d see this through my eyes

America, it hurts my feelings
Each time it’s implied
That we can look the other way
Each time a black boy dies

I hear the chorus singing
A brutal melody
Altos and sopranos
Not a single one in key

He must have been a thug
A petty criminal
He must have had a gun
Or been an imbecile

I’m sure he carried hate
Somewhere deep in his heart
Did you know that he smoked weed?
I bet that nigger wasn’t smart

Look at his gold grills!
George isn’t to blame
He was probably in a gang
I’m sure I would have done the same

Terrified to interject
To try and sway the crowd
I’ll keep this to myself
Won’t say these thoughts out loud

Watch the trial in silence
With a lump inside my chest
“This is fucking awful”
How could I leave this unaddressed?

He was suspicious…
Walking home holding a snack
He was suspicious
Walking home while being black

What could he have done differently?
How could he have been spared?
He should have worn a button down
He didn’t belong there

[cont’d.]

He should have kept his mouth shut
He should have never turned around
Prosecution says his mother’s scared
That it’s his fault he’s in the ground

Where should black boys go?
To find safety and resolve
To find justice and fair treatment
When the fuck will we evolve?

From Martin the King to Martin the Child
Not enough has changed
Feeling helpless towards that end
Though I’m not assigning blame

No race cards in my deck
No tricks left up my sleeve
Just a sadness in my heart
That makes it hard to breathe

He was not a perfect boy
That much was made clear
As we watch him prosecuted
For the fact that he’s not here

You see Trayvon is on trial
It is him we’re left to judge
You saw it coming from the moments
That those headlines blared on Drudge

But I can’t even blame Matt Drudge,
I’m as much at fault as him
I was mugged at gunpoint by two black boys
And my near-rapist had black skin

Somewhere deep in my heart
Those stereotypes exist
I’m sorry for them, Trayvon
I don’t want them to persist

Though I’m scared there will be riots
Even though I get the urge
And I pray there are no riots
That we might summon the courage

In the event that Trayvon Martin
Is found guilty of his crime
If justice isn’t served
Let us make it the last time

Not the last time that a bullet
Finds a way to someone’s heart
Not that last time a trial ends
But the last profiling starts

Dozens dying in Chicago
And yet we don’t blink an eye
What sort of tragedy must pass
For America to cry?

These black people are your people
They’re your fellow citizens
And if they don’t matter, I don’t matter
Because I am one of them

So long as that distinction
Continues to exist
Then every single one of us
Must promise to insist

That we will be relentless
In the fight left to our time
Not a fight with guns or sticks and stones
A fight of the heart and mind

I suppose I am a dreamer
I’ve been told I’m not alone
Though I feel bitter in this mess
And the wind has blown and blown

The answer’s in there somewhere
But the truth remains within
We have it in us to be different
It’s a fight we’re meant to win

I didn’t mean to write about this
But now I’ve said these words out loud
Because you should know, America
I Am Trayvon Martin and I’m proud

Image by Samuel via Creative Commons

I Didn’t Mean To Write About Trayvon Martin

Trayvon Martin

I’m not sure how to say this
But I feel compelled to try
Maybe if I just say it
You’d see this through my eyes

America, it hurts my feelings
Each time it’s implied
That we can look the other way
Each time a black boy dies

I hear the chorus singing
A brutal melody
Altos and sopranos
Not a single one in key

He must have been a thug
A petty criminal
He must have had a gun
Or been an imbecile

I’m sure he carried hate
Somewhere deep in his heart
Did you know that he smoked weed?
I bet that nigger wasn’t smart

Look at his gold grills!
George isn’t to blame
He was probably in a gang
I’m sure I would have done the same

Terrified to interject
To try and sway the crowd
I’ll keep this to myself
Won’t say these thoughts out loud

Watch the trial in silence
With a lump inside my chest
“This is fucking awful”
How could I leave this unaddressed?

He was suspicious…
Walking home holding a snack
He was suspicious
Walking home while being black

What could he have done differently?
How could he have been spared?
He should have worn a button down
He didn’t belong there

He should have kept his mouth shut
He should have never turned around
Prosecution says his mother’s scared
That it’s his fault he’s in the ground

Where should black boys go?
To find safety and resolve
To find justice and fair treatment
When the fuck will we evolve?

From Martin the King to Martin the Child
Not enough has changed
Feeling helpless towards that end
Though I’m not assigning blame

No race cards in my deck
No tricks left up my sleeve
Just a sadness in my heart
That makes it hard to breathe

He was not a perfect boy
That much was made clear
As we watch him prosecuted
For the fact that he’s not here

You see Trayvon is on trial
It is him we’re left to judge
You saw it coming from the moments
That those headlines blared on Drudge

But I can’t even blame Matt Drudge,
I’m as much at fault as him
I was mugged at gunpoint by two black boys
And my near-rapist had black skin

Somewhere deep in my heart
Those stereotypes exist
I’m sorry for them, Trayvon
I don’t want them to persist

Though I’m told there will be riots
And while I sincerely get the urge
I pray there are no riots
That we might summon the courage

In the event that Trayvon Martin
Is found guilty of his crime
If justice isn’t served
Let us make it the last time

Not the last time that a bullet
Finds a way to someone’s heart
Not the last time a trial ends
But the last profiling starts

Dozens dying in Chicago
And yet we don’t blink an eye
What sort of tragedy must pass
For America to cry?

These black people are your people
They’re your fellow citizens
And if they don’t matter, I don’t matter
Because I am one of them

So long as that distinction
Continues to exist
Then every single one of us
Must promise to insist

That we will be relentless
In the fight left to our time
Not a fight with guns or sticks and stones
A fight of the heart and mind

I suppose I am a dreamer
I’ve been told I’m not alone
Though I feel bitter in this mess
And the wind has blown and blown

The answer’s in there somewhere
But the truth remains within
We have it in us to be different
It’s a fight we’re meant to win

I didn’t mean to write about this
But now I’ve said these words out loud
Because you should know, America
I Am Trayvon Martin and I’m proud

Image by Samuel via Creative Commons