Formless

At Midnight

The sun don’t shine on black kids that cry alone at night. 
It’s blocked by glass ceilings and icy bars, 
  and a long fight. 
They say their prayers before bed, 
 but the only good things coming will be in the dreams they dream in their heads. 
They chase after the stars while being chased by police cars. 
With noses too wide to and hair too nappy to ever truly be happy. 
What can they do? 
The sun don’t shine on black kids with broken hearts. 
Instead,
 it’s overshadowed by the system pulling their families apart.
Some let white people disrespect their culture tryna fit in but in the end, 
 there’s no good way to fight vultures and win.
So they’ll pretend it’s funny just waiting for it to get sunny.
Oh! but the sun don’t shine on black kids that’s right.
Rather,
 it soaks up all their might. 
My only explanation is that the sun doesn’t heal on plantations, 
 only kills. 
So they settle for endorsement deals. 
That way they have enough money to know the last time the sun won’t shine on them. 
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