Nigger

First time he called me that, I thought it was a joke-

‘He didn’t just call me a nigger,’ my mind spoke-

He said it gentle like; like it was my name-

Then I thought about sticking something deep into his veins-

He was a big strong guy, I knew he liked to flex-

So I laughed and figured that I would spare him from his death-

But I would’ve killed him if I knew what would happen next-

It seemed that ‘Nigger’ was the sole purpose for his every breath-

And even today, I feel the pain in my chest-

Wishing that he would appear, right now, on my steps-

Massive shells would disappear into his left breast-

Then he could feel the pain that I felt when he flexed-

I hope that someone will forgive you for the man that you wronged-

I hope that his forgiveness is as strong when I’m gone-

I feel no sorrow for the life that I have taken-

I would’ve let him live but my mercy was forsaken-

Broken is my passion, gone are my beliefs-

Chained to the past, the memories, the streets-