Counting Sheep

I tried counting sheep
But unlike yours
My sheep became reasons to stay a-wake
They keep me woke
They all are black and conscious of that fact
Incessantly they bleat
What it means to be black
Never to weild true power but be the bulk of poverty and crime
To be Born after the fact
There is neither dusk nor dawn just a sad existence  and surviving the guillotine each day
To cringe to the metalic sound of snipping scissors
To be deemed worthless
Because their pelage has the pigment of darkness

My sheep hate that they are only good for ritual killings
Sacrificing for other peoples crosses
They one day wish to cross the Cs and live in favorable conditions,

My sheep  bleat
One by one they combine their cries
They demand to be heard
To earn enough respect as their white colleagues
To be valued the same
To graze the same grass and breathe the same air
They hope
To one day not be euphemisms for misfits, deliquents, predators and other vile creatures
They want us to know
Underneath their dark skin
Are sheep who simply just want to to be left alone,

They wont be labelled wolves.
Because they were born different
With more color and kinky fur,

My sheep refuse to be lambs
It is not in their nature to bear the brunt of oppression in silence
So my sheep bleat in protest
They are relentless
They keep me awake just to remind me where true power lies
They steal my sleep
Because all they  want is to be free
And I myself
Am tired of counting sheep
Who bend to the will of the cage
I need my sheep to be free
So I can enjoy a good  night sleep