let me paint you a picture
in shades of black and white
in shades of those who ****
and those who fight
this is what racism looks like
black men with paper hearts
armed with cardboard swords
white men dipped in ivory steel
white men born armed with skin
it's a black man with hands
raised to the heavens
and seeing hell as his last sight
this is what racism feels like
it's your black breath
being ****** out of your lungs
by white hands of white men
dressed in blue gilded in gold
this is what racism sounds like
it's an 18-year old's last words
it's a mother's cry at a police station
it's a bullet racing through the air
this is what racism is
it is not poetry
it's a black man wearing a red shirt
and getting shot six times
this is no crusade
there is no holy purpose
this is the star-spangled truth
a flag drenched in black blood
this is the truth bared in ink
and no poetry can save it

I'm a sad person
With a messed up mind
I am in a happy place
But I'm so far behind
Away from society
And what they say is 'right'
I do my best to stay away,
on my own path- the future is bright

Growing up gay wasn't easy.
Always knowing I was different to the rest.
I never felt right, never felt normal.
Because I'm not.
I'm different.
But sometimes difference is good, isn't it?
I've accepted myself.
But some haven't.