Don’t paint the whole picture with one single brush.
Don’t split the crowd, don’t lump the tribe,
Every single soul’s a different vibe,
Judge the act, not the face, that’s the code,
I’m me, you’re you.
I see the headlines, “Two boys, one crime, same skin,”
But the story’s deeper than the media’s spin,
One’s a brother, one’s a stranger—same complexion,
Yet they walk different roads, different direction.
You can’t judge my heart because somebody else slipped,
Don’t let the past dictate the script you’ve flipped,
I’m aware my thoughts are not everybody’s groove,
And I’m cool with you making different moves.
So I slice the stereotype like a razor blade,
Cut through the noise, let my real self cascade,
I’m not a label, I’m a paragraph, a page,
Turn it over, read the line, don’t just gauge.
Picture a canvas, a thousand shades of hue,
If you only see black, you’re missing the view,
One’s a poet, one’s a boxer, both human, both real,
You can’t box them together, that’s a crooked deal.
I’m not here to preach, I’m just speaking my mind,
If you disagree, that’s fine, let the dialogue unwind.
Respect is not a mirror, it’s a window to the sky,
It lets us see each other, not just who we spy.
So when the world tries to paint us with one brush,
I’ll grab a fresh palette, splash color, no hush.
Because every soul’s a story, not a single line,
And I’m just a chapter, not the whole design.
“Don’t judge the book by its cover,.”
We’re all chapters, each with a different plan.
So next time you point fingers, think before you swing,
Remember one bad act isn’t the whole thing,
Treat each person like a solo, not a choir,
That’s the only way we lift each other higher.
I’m me, you’re you—no need for a label,
Just listen, learn, keep the peace at the table,
One voice, many faces, that’s the real anthem.
Sincere 
