(Warning: This poem might make you uncomfortable. Also, it talks a little bit about things that might be triggering? You've been warned)
I do not fear the dark, I fear the things that lurk in it.
The eyes watching me, waiting for me to slip up.
Make one sudden movement and your life could end.
Always keep your hands where they can see them has been preached to me like a prayer at church.
Don't make sudden movements, don't fight back, don't ask questions.
Do as they say and you may survive.
Do as they say and you might live another day.
Your human rights don't matter if they see you as nothing more than an animal.
This isn't just a nightmare, you can't turn the lights on and make the monsters disappear.
This is the reality that we have to live in.
Mothers pray that today isn't the day they see their son's body, on the news.
Mothers pray that their daughters come home safe, that their bodies are not just another rape case.
Mothers pray that today they can wake up and see their children in their beds, not their caskets.
This isn't a horror story, made up for your amusement, this is our life.
Afraid to walk down the street because of our skin.
Afraid to drive because of our skin.
Afraid of a blue uniform and badge because of our skin.
Afraid because of our skin.
I do not fear the dark because I am the dark.
I fear the light that makes up the white of your skin.
If this were a nightmare, I'd turn the lights off to escape it.
YOU ARE READING
Written in Pretty Letters
Poetry"Fly," you say as you clip my wings and chain my feet. Even as your high expectations try to chain me to the ground, I find a way. Fly, you said, but I chose to soar.
