I wrote a poem

We call cops the A Team,
Cuz they hop out of vans and spray things.
Life expectancy so low we write wills at 16,
Surprised to see 23,
And thank God, the stars, and Allah for a leading digit 3.
If you seen what I've seen
You'd understand why your nightmares
Are play things in my day dreams.
So while I'm young I chase things
Like gold rings, pink skirts, and green cream.
Tomorrow's not promised,
And Old age is a pipe dream.
I lay awake nightly,
While the voice in my head screams,
"Hell no. Not me.
Survive by any means!"
Society it seems
Hates even the thought of me.
It desires to erase me
From its collective memory.
I mean, Check the history.
Treated like an animal;
Love for me is beastiality.
My life's price is dirt cheap.
A dime a dozen,
Find em hanging from any tree.
That's not the fate I choose for me,
But do I control my destiny?
Am I the captain of my soul,
Or another casual fatality?
What a  dichotomy
That's life, a reality,
When you're Black like me.