Dear black kings


You’re my brother, my nephew, my unborn son, my future husband and my friend. I know you get weary from all the injustice, because I do, too.

Communication has been interrupted by the sounds of gunshots, imprisonment, poverty, rallies, prayers & the preacher-man.

With so much to fight against, you don’t have much time for healing.

Busy trying to convince this world – and sometimes yourself – that you deserve basic human (and civil) rights.

I am sorry that the world tries to make you believe you’re inferior, because you’re not.

I am sorry they’ve worked diligently to convince you you’re worthless and your life doesn’t matter, because you are worth more than the world.

Your back holds the weight of the lies of this world, your hands bare the callus of constant fight, but the heart and soul of the universe lies within your eyes, and you mean everything to me.

Your ability to sway with life’s rhythms and survive despite the apparent disregard for your existence means you are truly royalty, like the thrones that have been stolen from you.

Don’t give up this fight. ❤️🙏🏽


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