Concrete Ghazal
Ghetto chile of the concrete lives and dies by a shot.
She carries her dead in a wooden, vodka shot.
She been raised by elders who use stars and God to navigate their circumstances.
Her vocal chords, strung like Chucks on power lines from residue of a gun shot.
She swallows her words more than the bullets she bites.
She’s a black ant in a colony waiting to be squashed or to be shot.
If Jesus came back for his people, they’d kill him before they let his people go.
They’ll charge him with trespassing and property theft, his case would be shot.
She can’t look for God because he’s hiding from his creations
because He knows if they could kill a god, they would do it in a quick shot.
If looks could kill, then her black skin would carry genocide.
They’ll try to burn her lineage by injecting her with a sterile shot.
Shocking is her existence and relaxing is her death,
She’s a tribe called Quin, a ghetto child anxious enough to kill for her shot.
