It wasn’t my choice that my ancestors where hunted and gathered, stripped from their homeland, and viciously removed from their roots; they where shoveled on board ships piled on top of one another treated like animals forced to the slaughter.

It wasn’t my choice that the monarchs and patriarchs of the American Blackman where sold as property: the selected would go to the highest bidder screaming, “winner winner chicken dinner,
pack ’em up boys them My niggers.”

It wasn’t my choice that many would die in transit or that many had to struggle to survive in conditions inhumanly drastic.

It wasn’t my choice that stripes on the back of my forefathers would create a wound generations deep, even after Lincoln preached his copper tone speech.

It wasn’t my choice that the past heartbeats of slaves escaping to their freedom would still be heard in the music, the poetry, and the pages of true American History.

It wasn’t my choice to be born in a country that hates my skin; hated because I tan better than them, or am I hated because I’m seemingly more athletic, or is it because my history reminds them of their sin?

It wasn’t my choice so stop asking me “what you do’n here boy?” Stop questioning my motives when I’m stuck in an elevator with your insecure conscience- you reck of fear.
Stop assuming you know what I’m thinking.

Shall I apologize because you’ve been seduced by the media monsters’ propaganda?

Shall I apologize for the way my people struggle to survive committing crimes because they to are also blind: But let me remind you that it was you who limited their opportunities: it was you who caroled them into ghetto reservations gave them guns flashed material gains shipped in drugs you spread your money around to entice told them this is your God you must love it to death- & so they die daily. Let me remind you that it was you who fooled them into thinking your way of life was the key to happiness, fine clothes, nice cars, beautiful women, you advertised the lie that this is clean live’n; & you have the audacity to whine about the violence and atrocities you observe when it was your brain child birthed from an evil heart that started this madness pouring gasoline on a spark turning a minor candle flame into a fiery hurricane.

I just want you to think about that before you deflect the blame for Americas pain and remember that it wasn’t my choice that I came: But it is my choice to make a change to the course of all this chaos bringing order to the blood line of Kings & Princess’s. it is my choice to make a change that will imprint generations that will grow strong & tall rising above all, it is my choice to change the world I see- starting with me….