In The Reflection Of A Bigot's Stare

In The Reflection of A Bigots Stare

Late night, Reflecting.

In the cross hair's of a bigots gaze,
I don't know whether to run or to stand firm.
It can get complicated when you're in my situation.
To know who to trust, or who wants to do you in.
We blend in, which makes the nature of the stereotypes different.
Sneaky, cheating, infiltrators.
That's how the tune goes.
I heard that in church and in social circles.
A leech who feeds off the Aryan. I never recall doing that. I admired everybody.
I was naive to do that maybe,
But when you're the only one,
You internalize it,
It is your reality,
You accept self-loathing
Because if they all seem to hate you, there must be a reason.
It was liberating to realize the truth.
Even though horrible.

Implanted into someone else's fantasy,
Where the good ole boys run things,
Sitting there a Sitting duck without support structure.
Small towns when they don't like your kind can be cruel.
Even amongst friends.
Few to understand
Because they don't know what it's like.
You find the various other misfits where you can, but i ran as far away as I could and didn't come back for decades, and not willingly.
I don't know them anymore: the old friends who accepted me.
The only two i found.
One died, and the other hates and destroys now.
Most of my peers
with the same skin color,
never had to think about their ethnicity,
Their name,
Never had to fear for their own safety when they see bigotry, only just safe removed disapproval.
Or approval.
You see, I really admire other people who have experienced that,
But have such strong community,
Mine is so entwined with a religion that I don't know how to connect with it.
There is no god,
But we are social animals.
Too semitic for the gentiles,
But brought into churches with... As my grandfather used to say "that jesus bullshit".
Engrossed in that culture,
Not my culture,
My family nearly wiped out for refusing to convert but here we are.
Neither group accepted that very well.
On the fringes of the fringes, i remember services being held in black churches as a kid.
They always had interest and kindness.
They'd join in and that was cool. That was really cool.

Spent a lot of time suppressing the trauma,
Running away from it,
But I decided to confront it head on,
Maybe it inspired me a bit to see the issues coming to the forefront with others,
With different yet familiar struggles,

Though i check up on old tormentors from time to time,
Some are the same, and some have changed,
I want to forgive but my pain is all I have of those days,
It reminds me of what i've been through.
There's a twisted strength in that difference,
Difference becomes beautiful in and of itself.
I feel like clinging to that pain for dear life,
Because it has effected me so much in my life.
I understand where others feel that.
It's a kick in the face to hear 'just get over it'.
I want my bitterness because i earned it.
33 and still failing.
I do work hard.
The hands extended always have something else on the other end.
Standing as he takes my identity
I know what he really believes.
I guess he's a better liar than i give him credit for.
How someone can twist things when they lack a conscience.
Let the witch hunt continue for a few more decades
When i bite the dust
Going nowhere
Gone nowhere
There is no hope
And there is no future
As the gaze of a bigot,
In all it's self righteous glory continues to trip me up
And i fall into a pit with no way out,
Sinking in total silence.
No escape rope in sight.©

Lucian Sneezy Influx™