No One Knows My Struggle,

My Mother Was A Woman. A Black Woman. A Single Mother. Raising Two Kids On Her Own. So She Was Dark Skinned. Had Short Hair. Got No Love From Nobody Except For A Group Called The Black Panthers. So That's Why She Was A Black Panther.

There Should Be A Class On Drugs. There Should Be A Class On Sex Education-a Real Sex Education Class-not Just Pictures And Diaphragms And 'un-logical' Terms And Things Like That.....there Should Be A Class On Scams, There Should Be A Class On Religious Cults, There Should Be A Class On Police Brutality, There Should Be A Class On Apartheid, There Should Be A Class On Racism In America, There Should Be A Class On Why People Are Hungry, But There Are Not, There Are Classes On Gym, Physical Education, Let's Learn Volleyball.

My Homie Lost His Family And Snapped, Shot Up Half The Block To Bring Them Back.

Sometimes When I'm Alone I Cry, Cause I Am On My Own. The Tears I Cry Are Bitter And Warm. They Flow With Life But Take No Form I Cry Because My Heart Is Torn. I Find It Difficult To Carry On. If I Had An Ear To Confide In, I Would Cry Among My Treasured Friend, But Who Do You Know That Stops That Long, To Help Another Carry On. The World Moves Fast And It Would Rather Pass By. Then To Stop And See What Makes One Cry, So Painful And Sad. And Sometimes... I Cry And No One Cares About Why.

Some Say The Blacker The Berry, The Sweeter The Juice I Say The Darker The Flesh Then The Deeper The Roots