My Hardest Work Never Matters

A poem on racism.

No matter how hard I try, my best isn’t enough.

I feel like I’m a victim of the system who can’t stay afloat.

No one to pull me out the water when it’s too much.

I’ve been holding these thoughts in for an eternity, so to stop myself from crying, I have to emote.

I’m tired of being the person with the worst scores.

Do I try hard? Yes.

Am I sure? Yes.

How many times do I have to second guess myself before I realize that I’m black and forgetting the rest?

Yes, racism is real and I’m going through it right now.

Not just with the police or the Karens, but with the educators I thought who loved me the best.

You can’t give me an accurate grade until I give you one on racism.

You get an F not just for effort, but for fooling around with my people.

This isn’t a joke and you’ll see what I’m talking about eventually.

Removing the bad apples is something I do habitually.

Until then, understand what you got yourself in.

Black Lives Matter isn’t a facade you can get away from.

You’re going to feel it. Justice will always come.