In Describing What It's Like to Be Black

3 0 0
                                    

There's no silencing

The noise in your

Head when

The volume control is broken

And there is no power button

Nor plug

Because you don't do the controlling

You're just a speaker box

With a horrible song on repeat

That you do your best to tune out

Otherwise you become immune and each time you hear it

It becomes a little less enterprising

Until it no longer capitalizes

On your positive energy

It's just sound

-noise

-one perception

It doesn't burn in the ears of

Those who've been here

For the past 300 years

With inferior fears

Black, shiftless tears

That have honed enough sanity

To live through the inhumanity

And degradation of the notes you

Unapologetically call "music to my ears"

It's a song you play on repeat

A song to which you dance

-to which you march to the beat

A song to which you share with all

Your comrades in camaraderie

-a song to which you sing to

Until it reverberates in your soul

And makes you the epitome

Of pity in my world

And I don't listen

-though I hear,

The difference between

Those who accept your lies

And projections of your imperfections

-your insults and your vexing

-your misguided directions

Because you'll never be

The fault in my stars

Or the solar eclipse that

Plummetsme into darkness...


The Chain BreakersWhere stories live. Discover now