Yesterday I asked myself what do young kids do nowadays for fun? I remember Monday through Sunday I would usually play outside like any other kid would.
Riding my bike in a circle in the parking lot even though I didn't have a lot of space for it.
I remember at 6 pm my parents would call me to get back inside and why do you think that?
Because it was dinner time? Or it was getting cold outside?
No, it wasn't anything like that. They warned me to get back inside before the white man came out again.
24/7 wake up calls by loud rambling nonsense, quite honestly I didn't understand a word.
I felt they were words of utter hatred,
The man who stands made
this child stay in silents,
Kept and locked in,
Despite taking combat,
Stood in silences again,
Brought upon the solid impression,
One of white, one of various colors
could not mix, as one it's self,
Permanently engraved onto a young girls brain,
Bind and in vain onto a five years old perspective,
unable to be overlooked,
thrown like a plastic water bottle,
Littered onto a property of mixed color's,
For it is still stuck onto the hands of a white man,
What was his understanding?
At the age of 5 the only colors I knew were from a coloring book, covered in red, blue, yellow, and green. Never knowing color was defined in different meanings,
Soon enough I realized all that is needed is a one-sided answer,
No matter what I forgive the white man.