Confessions of a black boy

The first tome I ever saw a gun in real life,
it was pointed straight at my forehead.

It looked a little strange off the TV screen.
I couldn't tell you how.

Of course the people watched from behind
the safety of their barred up windows

To them the only place that gun belonged
was between a black boy's eyebrows.
Nothing mattered to them. Not how old I
was. Not who I was. Not where I came
from. Not where I was going. Nothing
mattered to them.

It seemed that the bars didn't just exist on
their windows. Their minds were barred
as well.

They didn't see me.

They saw the brown on my skin and they
let the black in their hearts, and the red in
their eyes, and the blue on their uniforms
overtake them.

I didn't see much of that gun even though
it was so close to my eyes.

I couldn't tell you much about it.

But I could tell you about the pale white
fingers wrapped around it.

Because that was all I saw.

I didn't see nothing after that bullet was
shot straight into the middle of my mind.

But I hope they saw that my blood was

Just like theirs.



  1. Tife, you don't know how much you capture my emotions with this poem. It reminds me of this viral post in facebook entitled: #BlackLivesMatter: Last Words

    1. I'm glad you liked the poem! I read the facebook post you linked and its extremely heartbreaking to read the last words of these innocent people.


Thank you for your thoughts.

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