Might my nerves keep me from being great?
Immensely Shaking.
Not a sound slides out.
Might they keep me from making a fool of myself?
Or maybe my nervous system is a result of the oppression placed on a man of color.
They say you might never find a book in his hand.
His grammar just ain’t right
Let’s just silence ignorance early
So he can’t speak until the night.
His life just ain’t right
Worthless if worth that much.
A penny for his thoughts.
A grand paid for the cause of his demise.
A salaried slave killer with a gun on his hip.
And you ask me why I’m nervous…

View poeticfinesse's Full Portfolio