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They say I’m mad at the world
Go figure right
The biggest stereotype there is
An Angry Black Man
But maybe this is true
Maybe I am
Maybe I’m mad at the world
For how I’m treated
Inequalities I deal with every day
Or how I get looked down upon like I’m a crumb on the dirtiest of grounds
Like I’m a peasant: a beastly creature
A killer that was never pushed
Just one more **** they won’t have to arrest soon
Because they believe in executions!
Death by firing squad!
So maybe I am angry
Furious
Shouldn’t I have the right to express myself?
Express my opinions on this jaded society!
But then again, they say it's not a societal norm  
So I rebuttal,
**** normality
They say shut up and dribble!
They say you’re canceled
They say you can’t feel this way
But why can’t I feel this way?
How Sway?
I mean isn’t this a “FREE COUNTRY”?
Don’t I have “First Amendment rights”?
Doesn’t the “Constitution apply to me”?
Can I be free?
They say I’m going to end up either dead or in jail
But why can’t I be a lawyer?
And maybe go to Yale
As I yell and get on my knees
Crying out in pain and agony
Saying please
Lord help me
Protect me
Lord, give me wisdom
So, I can have a strong mind
To get through these hard times
Exhausted and Traumatized
I pause
And close my eyes
This is Poem 3 of my first book, Traumatized: The Conscious Reality

Traumatized: The Conscious Reality is an introspective perception through my brown wide eyes while growing up in Chicago, seeing pain, love, and trauma. As disappointment looms in the abyss, while trying to obtain knowledge as I reach for success. Edging on the cusp of greatness, while trying to break the curse of generational trauma.
Who am I?
I get asked this question a lot
But I really don’t think there’s no need to answer
Because like a cancer
This tumorous disease eats at me
Like cell-to-cell
Like a hell of tales
Burning my flesh and soul
To an endless loop of fear, pain, and trauma
Am I a man?
Am I a child?
Am I considered wild?
A beastly creature
Am I a Black male?
That gets stereotyped for having a darker shade than others
For being wrong all the time but never right
That gets stereotyped for having a stereotype
That gets profiled for not having a profile
Am I a child that has his whole life is determined, with two words,
Test scores!
Test scores that get me into college with a lifetime of debt or prison with three hots and a cot.
Tests that weren't even set up for us at all
Rigged from the beginning  
That western thinking    
Am I a Black boy,
That has no father to lead him, guide him, and show him how to be a man?
Am I an adolescent,
That gets stereotyped for either gang banging or caine slagging?
A **** - The Hate You Give
That is at a constant struggle with oneself on when to be tough, reckless, and wild
Or when to be joyful and have a smile
A savage
An impatient fiend for the white skin
Yearning for a fix
Like Birth of a Nation
When we birthed this nation
A Criminal
That can never be trusted
Ignorant,
Stereotyped for not knowing how to read or write
Illiterate
Mentally *******
Different
Not like me, so I hate you
Not like me, so I chase you
Not like me, so I **** you
Strange
Like strange fruit
I hang
My neck snaps
PULL!
Hang
Cracks
PULL!
Hang
POPS!
Freeze
Burn!
Maybe I'm Insane,
For being a crack baby
Or from the medicine that Mommy and Daddy said the doctor gave me
Or since my dad put gaping holes in my mom
From hollow tips to hollow trips
Doctor visits to Child Protective Services
Psychoanalysis for my Psychopathic Analysis  
Needing an antibiotic for this infection
An antipsychotic for that depression
Inadequate
Insufficient funds
Scares
Impoverished
I don’t know, you tell me
As these words speak free
I ask again
Who am I
Shouldn’t I decide and be free?
This is Poem 2 of my first book, Traumatized: The Conscious Reality

Traumatized: The Conscious Reality is an introspective perception through my brown wide eyes while growing up in Chicago, seeing pain, love, and trauma. As disappointment looms in the abyss, while trying to obtain knowledge as I reach for success. Edging on the cusp of greatness, while trying to break the curse of generational trauma.

— The End —