Dangerous Streets

I woke up one day and realized that I had a lot of hate in my heart
It was within my blood, my thoughts weighed heavy on this
As my tears scorched my face, too hot to wipe away
Too angry to justify my reasons for this hate
So therefore I picked up this smile
And I placed it upon my face
Though my eyes spoke its truth my mouth refused to vocalize
Although my hands wanted to react my arms refused to initiate
Yet still I walked with hate, I wore it, like I wore my flesh
It was me and I was clearly it
I would say that I was taught this hate, or maybe I was just lucky enough to inherit it
And if that were the case then of course I must respect it
Because I mean why would I question the hate that I have within my heart?
My ancestors had to have had a legitimate reason to hate
They had to have had a reason to do what I could not physically do
To hate what they were seeing so much that they had to get up and do something about it
Since I was clearly taught the right way
Right?

Mamas hands reached out and pulled me up
Wrapped within her arms is where I felt most comfortable
As I shed tears of centuries of pain
Hymns blasting within my ears
Lessons to be feared dancing swiftly within my head
Life telling me “Boy I am here to teach you a valuable lesson.”
As I walk down dangerous streets with deaf ears, I catch cliched purses and slurs as I walk on by
The goal is to get home
Or rather try to make it there the best way that I can
Here I am burying my feet within the imprints of the past
Shedding blood, sweat and tears just for an ounce of sympathy
An opportunity that I am only going to be rewarded a quarter of just so I can feel somewhat good about what I am bringing back to my residence
Since I am not competent enough to do great things because it is not within my DNA
Unless I pay the price of selling off my soul for lavish things
To please the world is to go against everything that I can possibly think of
“Why do right when doing right is exactly whats killing us?”
I wish that I could wipe these words from out of my thoughts as I cry within these leathered hands and ask the Lord what was your purpose?
Why is there more hate than sympathy?
Yet still to this day there are no questions to my answers so I stand back up and lean more onto my teachings
To hate you is to love you and to love you is to despise you
I can spend my entire life trying to rationalize your ways and teach you that your hate is not going to break me
It is not going to stop me from walking down these dangerous streets or prevent me from lending a helping hand
If you fall I will in fact be there to help pick you up
And you may very well turn me away
Spit at my feet and call me everything but my name
But I am still going to be here
Because until that day come when I must leave here
I will continue to endure because I still have something to live for
While here In these dangerous streets