There is blood seeping from the gravel in the Volunteer state
A misdemeanor that will never be noticed Yet I've walked on that stone covered black earth That is hollow ground of all the buried black women Of deaths that go unreported Labeled as suicide Their depression just another excuse to complain Keep men’s clasped over their mouths and their genitals synced tight Made my way to the old state line where chalk outlines Become a faded story Just taking out the trash, Throwing these women away like this weeks garbage All you should do is stay indoors, girl Hope they don’t find you home, girl Cept outside can always be tracked in the house between the soles of your shoes Caked in between the rubber leaving bits of the problem on your floor And after all you gotta take the trash out Made my way to the dumpster Saw a woman walking with a bit of a shake She looked like my mother, thin frame humming to herself a sane tune Black pavement skin, plaits all over her head Skidish eyes as if the dice thrown by fate had left her here in this alley Looking over her shoulder for the next bad break Not quite dark, children laughing in the courtyard Gossiping neighbors leaning out of bent blind covered windows Men tossing those same dice trying to up the anty Ticking fans on this late summer day I couldn't take my eyes off of her Of her fiending body, of the glaze in her eyes Covering the pain Of a woman who may not have a place to call home Because she never possessed a real one You see a junkie, but highs often cover the emptiness Fill in the spaces left by neglect We never made eye contact She looked too much like my momma My momma was a junkie too had those shakes of too much weight No one to take the burden Can't complain black woman Let it kill you Her eyes never really made contact either Just shifting eyeballs rolling with all the weight Of being alone yet surrounded by people I can still hear the woman's cracking bones As what she was looking for pounced from his 10 speed bike Catching his prey in the alley Children went indoors Gossip halted Dice lay on unlucky numbers I threw out my trash Kept my eyes on the defeated woman that would be crumpled into the earth Closed the door Things just got good here We were safe inside Cept bits of the issue were tracked into the house Laying on the floor resembling dead flakes of black skin Suspended in chance Here in Section 8 housing With food stamps on the table A hole punched Therapy card next to it Momma sucking on a cigarette closing the blinds Tuning it out The sounds of the ghetto What could we change without losing our place Being nothing but faded outlines and covered in stone All grown up now, sick of hollow ground seeped in blood Sick of watching cracking bodies left to be crumpled earth Show me state has too many named victims to not see this is a problem now |
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