Foot 3
By Charles Banks Jr.
(A Rewrite)

Black I am, and I am hiding
from the man with the black beater in hand
and the shiny badge on his chest.
He is relentless in his pursuit
of finding and locking me up.

I hide in the alleyways
with overflowing dumpsters
that have been neglected
like most black men.
I have never pointed the finger of blame
but now my hand may be forced.

As I see the truth
while knelt down on the cracked alley floor
avoiding the racist white cop
I have come to the realization that
life is unfair
and it never will be fair and just.

One of the many sad realizations
we have to face in America.
I never completely understood why
foreigners’ longed to come here.

Everything that’s printed in books
advertised in magazines, shot on film,
sensationalized in music
slant the truth.

People are not exactly free!

The government can give two shits about me!
So why do you want to come here,
my immigrant friend?

I love this great land,
do not misinterpret my words.

But I am not exactly free!

Just look at my predicament
simply walking down the street
black hoodie on, saggy jeans
and a pack of Skittles on my mind.

Now I am a shadow in the midnight
hiding from the man
with the black beater in hand
and the shiny badge on his chest.

Writing as Black Angel
From “A Rose in the Name of Love”

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