Black boy
Green pastures
A red, blue, and white flag
That’s all he sees
As he places his left hand over his heart
his morning begins at night
kneeling to pray to the sun in a dark room
Forgive me GOD for what I’m about to do
He doesn’t own a gun
but he has a mouth to use
Not knowing that he is about to lose
In a game called game
See game recognized game when you came from the same place
that knows your name
Little black son
A non-birth certificate name, but nickname he got some years ago
from a family member he remembers
as tears rose down from his eyes
The tears froze like December
Cold outside
It didn’t stop him from getting in that ride
Homies he knew since high school
Drunk and high at the same time
Wild, Wild, West at high noon
They have to remind dude
how it goes down on the Southside
The only lone wolf in this pack kept looking back at the point of no return
They had to hit the road with a jack in the back seat
of his friend’s Cadillac
A little black son trying to back track where his peace was at
but there was nowhere to turn
All dressed in hoodies
Same complexion as their skin tone
Little black son thinking about the hopes and dreams he wishes to see
before he turns 25
Birthdays, holidays, and family traditions
Never thought he would tell his family that he will miss them
A product of being judged, labeled, abused, accused of innocence non-void
Jobs won’t hire him because he’s not linked in
or lack of experience
So he’s thinking this must be the black experience.

Credits: Written and Produced by Sean Garvey