What should you see
when you look at me?
Is my melanin destiny
Still swinging from a poplar tree?

But what if I’m only half
of a negro
Silly me, I forgot
The color’s the only part you see,
so, no. 

You say white lives matter, too
of course they do
But it still doesn’t justify
All this black and blue

“It’s much better than it used to be”
they say
Then why, 100 years later
Does the blood still drip
From the poplar tree