Dear summer, I know you’re gonna miss me”
The streets are warming up cause bodies are going cold, this summer was a hot one. If words aren’t proof enough feel the heat coming off a cops barrel, another brotha just caught one.
1 bullet, 2 bullets, 3 bullets, 4. It almost sounds like a Dr. Seuss line, I wonder what the next verse is. Maybe the Lorax with his tree or maybe the Sneetches with their stars. Maybe that’s just more wishful thinking, we know where those kinds of stories live.
I just want to know how much more it’ll take to get through to you. We call you the system but we know it’s deeper than that, and it’s deeper than you. Mentioning the big R is like a race against time. Our skin tones differ, but we’re all at the line.
But as you see me hurdle you put more in my path, as I trip less and less you struggle more and more with keeping me in last.
If I give up and pass away, who will cry for me? Will I be someone they mourn for, or just a distant memory?
I thought just like Hov with crack, our grandparents laid down so we didn’t have to go through that.
Yet here we are, another headline in flames. Another life lost, and more voices calling the name.
If I’m next can I guarantee my momma gets to me? Can I promise my dad they’ll represent me?
Will they burn my image and attack my name? Will they strip away my innocence and give me the blame?
Am I too belligerent? And I’m too black? Am I up next to show the next systems crack?
If my pockets were as deep as my sorrows I’d feel like I was swimming and not just drownin’ in this life of sinning where too many brothas give in to avarice and women.
Do I deserve that much? Can I just be a kid? Or does your fear of me replace all the things I did?
Am I still an honor student? Am I still a role model? Am I still a know it all? Am I still the favorite uncle my nephew always calls?
These verses aren’t lessons, they’re therapeutic. These are real feelings right here, we just have nowhere else to put it.
I see people like me still fighting for their right to breathe, and at the same time I see people fighting for the right to knee.
So what is it in your fight that makes you blind to it? What is it in your heart that makes your hands do it?
My summers used to be about streetlights and turnpikes. They used to be about new heights and mountain bikes.
It’s tugging at my heart but this time apart is needed. I guess this is goodbye summer, cause I need it.
– Lebert Lester III