NervesA Poem by John ByrdMight 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…
© 2015 John Byrd |
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1 Review Added on July 11, 2015 Last Updated on July 11, 2015 AuthorJohn ByrdDetroit, MIAboutJunior at Michigan State University. Hip Hop and poetry are my two favorite things. Childish Gambino is my favorite artist. Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson, and Henry David Thoreau are my favorite .. more..Writing
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