You seem familiar:
The rope used to be your weapon of choice,
but now you prefer bullets more,
and instead of harassing me in my own neighborhood
you slyly wait until I’m driving through yours.
I recognize you:
You used to beat me whenever you felt so moved -
claiming it was “to keep me in my place” -
but now you smugly claim that I deserved it because
“I was resisting,” not because of my race.
We go way back:
I mean, you wear a badge now, trying
to be more discreet -
but I remember when you used to
wear a sheet.