So, I went to bury my brother todayBut he wasn't your brotherAnd you weren't at the funeralYou sayThat may be true, but he might as well have beenSeeing as how all that matters is the color of his skinThe burial has taken place time and time againDeep within my soul.I have to bury the anger, the pain, the sadnessPut on a smiling face and go on about my day.But overall, I'm just tired.Tired of seeing another dead bodyTired of avoiding videosAnd knowing that while I can shut off the news and reality tvThat this reality transcends my tvI'm also worried. It seems we have fallen into a patternA body dropsThe statuses and hashtags come outThe marches comeBut then it all dies down.Until a day, week, a month laterWe start the same thing all over again.I'm reminded by others of my people's historyAnd how much we have struggledBut what if I'm tired of struggling?I don't know what to do.Does that make it easier for themWhen I just bury myself?
