My America

I live BLACK
and I know the inner city struggle
my friends who work within the system
are starving on public assistance

I grew GERMAN
but German means nothin'
because my native tongue
was shunned by the government

You color me LATINO
and see me beneath you
still get asked for my papers
when my caramel doesn't hit your sweet tooth

I refuse to be a statistic
but I try
    I try
    I try

to put my faith
inside your constraints

but my conformance
makes no difference

You
    still
          STEREOTYPE
          CATEGORIZE
          BELITTLE
          DEHUMANIZE
the very essence of who I am

So where is my America?
the slums and ghettos to which my people are relegated?
like they are a prize to be won...
the jails we cannot seem to depopulate?
a victim of mass incarceration...
the streets that become graves through mis-education?

or that crooked edge
which marks the (colored) line
between what is right
    what is legal
          and what you need to SURVIVE