I've been warned about the unknown, and the occasional comfort zone. I've driven to foreign places within my community. Stares reminded me that I'm was not welcomed here .

Now they attempt to hang us with chants and piercing stares, fulfilling their ancestors dreams of oppression with low paying wages and random police stops to fill quotas.

In their neighborhoods where Trident hides drunken mornings, and women scream for help from behind mascara for the blacks and blues.

It's been written all along, they are the one's broken from their own insecurities, and misery has always loved company.