Levels Poem by True Eyes

Is it bad to want to be
Labeled something other than a black person?

I remember King speaking,
Every goose bump on my arm
Represented his dreams

I trembled when Malcolm X
Told me to fight
For I knew that one strand of violence
Would lead to a head full of chaos

I remember marching for equal rights in Selma,
Half blinded by the tear gas
Stretched in a street trying to get
Help
My voice became my hands
As it protruded for someone to save me
From the racist views

John Lewis took my hand
And he safely, returned me home
Why? Because I want equal rights,
Is what I told myself
My sister won’t ever make such a cry
My cousin won’t be judged by his race
So, no I won’t grow the seeds that the white man
Plants deep in my skull and heart
My tears will not water the plants,
My body is a desert to such plants of injustice

There are many rounds to freedom
I am on the fourth
If I make it to 9
Justice will learn one color out of my Crayola box
Together, Justice will know the whole
Rainbow