Loving My Own

I give love.
Plenty to my kind,
Especially to those of the same kinda mind.
Those who spit against racism are blessed,
But not those who try to sound black in the process.
Those who pick up ball on the court,
But not those players who don't question lies society taught.
Those who write and take action,
But not those who do it for liberal satisfaction.
Those who take the battle to any ends,
But not those who think cool means having black friends.
Those prepared to tackle prejudice unseen,
But not those companies with equality initiatives to bring in more green.
Those who do what's right above politics,
But not those who are looking to get boxes ticked.
Those who give thanks for their daily bread,
But not those who don't care for the cost in dead.
Those who you can see the goodness in their eyes,
But not those who define Europeans as civilized.
Those whose passion is freedom for all,
But not those who think capitalism causes peace and not war. 
Those who fight injustice with bravery,
But not those who forget their wealth was inherited from slavery.

For those who think I hate my own,

Wrong, I got so much love to give in my bones.
It's just I see very few honest ingredients
That are worthy of me giving it up to pale recipients.