Black Lives Matter

I carry history in my skin,

a story I never chose.

It burns in every stare,

every siren,

every shadow that follows me home.

I am tired of proving my right to exist,

tired of gasping for air

while others breathe without thought.

When I say Black Lives Matter,

I’m not asking for pity.

I’m demanding respect—

the respect that should have been ours

from the beginning.

My name,

my brother’s name,

my sister’s name—

not hashtags,

but hearts,

still beating,

still breaking,

still refusing to be erased.

We are not here to fade away.

We are here to live.

And we will keep saying it

until the silence shatters:

Black Lives Matter.