Negro

I came into this world behind bars.

Deprived of my own birth right to education.

Before I can take my first breath of oxygen.

Take my first glance at life.

I’m given colorized limitations.

I’ve only existed for ten damn seconds.

I guess that’s life right?

For another stereotypical black kid that will only steal shit.

Sell shit.

Kill shit.

Shoot guns and spill boiled bloody  d with no regret.

Yet again this is only a stereotype the white man-

Sorry “European”.

The stereotype the “European” man expects.

What makes my skin so scary?

Does my brown complexion threaten you?

Does the bass in my voice as I scream “help” and all of my constitutional rights bring chills down your spine?

Do my dreams of changing the world for my people,

To make us collectively more equal,

Break down the flawed foundation of what you’ve called your life?

Does my existence and persistence to be great in a world where the odds are designed to put my kind at a disadvantage, make that fragile idea of “superiority” you have, feel less real?

I could guess.

But really, who would want to know the inside of the mind of an oppressor?

It wouldn’t be impressive.