I stutter.
I shudder.
I rage;
When I am calmly
trying to explain,
instead of having a
debate
on race and hate.

I cry,
cause I can
hear the pain
when people
try and describe
the horrors
from which they came,
while knowing
no matter if
they are showing
true scars of abuse
the world will still view
them as an other.

It is obvious to me
when I study history.
I can clearly see
said sorry tragedy
of human suffering.

No specifics to share
cause this is just a poem
to say that I care,
and despair
of seeing
indifference
or people not believing
what others are experiencing
after four hundred plus years of proof.

When your answer to
me telling you
what’s going on,
is “but what about
the deep state,
Bill Gates,
five G,
that’s antifa,”
or “that just
fake news”

What is the use
of telling you
the truth
in verse
when you
haven’t heard
a single word
whispered,
yelled,
cried,
or transcribed
about the
horrors committed
in people’s lives.