I was taught by a man
That smelled heavily of smoke
Of the difference of certain
Brands of cigarettes
And the place to smoke them

I don’t remember much of that lesson
As I quit over twenty years ago
Except that Lucky Strikes should
Be smoked outside... alone...
In the park.

The 'is'
and the 'is not'
no longer
troubles any thought

You see my brown skin
And assume I'm a ****.

You see my hijab
And assume I'm a terrorist.

You see the smile on my face
And assume I'm happy.

You hear my words
And assume I'm okay.

But I am not.

Instead I am broken.
Yet I am also strong.

I am dark and rule-following.
I am peaceful and Muslim.

You assume based on
Society's POV.

If you smile
You must be happy.

Fox, CNN, any media
Tells you I am a terrorist.
So the names I get called
And the extra security checks
Are extremely upsetting.

The murders of black folk
Is either considered appropriate
Or it's "black on black crime"
So it's not taken seriously.

Who are you gonna believe
Me or those who don't know me?

You wear leather
As dark as your heart
You speak words
As sharp as a knife

You smell of cigarettes
And sometimes cologne
You wreak of Jack Daniel's
But mostly depravity

You lurk in the shadows
And prey on the young
You desire a girl
But only one night

You tell her your lies
To trick her to stay
And then like a coward
You run away

She grew into the most Beautiful
and she can't be found

I find myself zoning out at times
Wanting to say so much
But never really saying anything at all
Maybe this is for the best

What I think is better left unsaid
Opinions I leave on the inside
Never to spoken nor heard
None spoken by my lips but with the little voice in my head

I listen to others
Their sounds, their stories
Reading their words as they form them
But never really understanding

The same thoughts plaguing my mind
Like a broken record only played for one
Clouding self-confidence and determination
I’m left thinking