For My People 

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So, what will you tell me? 

When it’s all said and done.

When you’re in the office that’s an oval, and when you’re done kissing babies.

What will you tell the people who voted to swap out one old white man for another?

Will my worries of my black brother dead in the street be over?

Hmmm??

Will my diabetic mother still have to pay her arms and legs for life?

Tell me, do I still have to pay for a degree that isn’t even guaranteed for me to keep a roof over my head.

Or is this another gag gift?

You pulling my leg or something? 

For my people, whatcha gonna do? 

Tell me now, because we need to know!

Just because you picked a black woman to be your right hand, you think that should be enough.

Well it isn’t enough.

Just because you were the right hand man to a man who looks like us, you think that should be enough?

Well sir, that isn’t enough.

Who the fuck do I have to call to get my voice heard? 

Because I’m tired. 

These bones ache, and my feet hurt from all of this marching in the streets

THAT WE MADE! 

And, and we're sick.

Sick and tired of the bullshit you called the greatest country in the world. 

So, what will you tell me?

Is this the end of an age of black bodies in the streets, or those same black bodies in cages?

And no sugar,  I didn’t forget that those cages are the same ones you made for us. 

So I ask again,

What will you tell me?

No no no, what will you show me?

Because now I see that the talk you talk is cheap. 

Because your words aren’t enough for me. 

Not no more,

For my people, whatcha gonna do?