Because I may never perform it

Meth stained walls surround me
Old dreams fade,
still reaching for peace.

This piece is dedicated to every kid
raised on the rez
Waiting to feel love's sunrays on the rez
Low res.
Waiting for the pez
pop off the top.
Pops and moms brought the cops

60 minutes 'til show
violence filling the spot.
Red dots on red faces.
Red skin with said graces
never meeting what we were chasin'.

...and we're Native.
Bring on tough skin and deep patience,
because the struggles you hold
misunderstood in a country that may not grow.

Know your soul.

Teachers will attempt to teach otherwise
According to some
the sum is zero,
but we know
Indigenous presence lives on in our people.

From Na Da La kotas to Mohawk
Ojibwe to Dine
Cree to Lenape
Cheyenne to Arapaho
So tell those sentinels
that Seminoles cannot die
and genocide on any tribe
can never be justified.

"Just get by."
Morals I can't abide
Why treat lifestyle of origin like it's mostly lived on the side?
Hold the fries we ate
cause our lives were born into America
but my spirit longed
to sing songs in mother tongue foreign in my own knowledge.
Plus mother's lungs
suffocated from her own bleeding black blood.
Yes, we may be blood
but MLK still waitin' for the dream's bells to be rung.

Too many
NDN children unrecognized
as recognized tribal citizens.
Fighting for presence and history
Presence in history
Descent in this story
While hoping home won't drink again.

Today,
it all looks similar.
Old from it all.
They wonder if I was truly strong,
or simply about to fall.

BUT

I was that rez kid
Distant and present
Still taking zoloft and propanalol
Trying hopelessly to move away
from those old meth stained walls.