G 1d
Look I know it sounds harsh, but see it from my perspective. Actually don’t. Because my perpective is your perspective but let’s make something very clear. Just because we share the same pigment doesn’t mean we share the same ideas.

Ironic. I know. The idea that I’m not a fascist fuck is weird, but I’d like to hope it’s true. So let’s go through the step by step build your basic redneck racist asshole pack.

1. “Make America great again” this one needs no fucking explanation.

2. “All lives matter” again, self explanatory.

3. “White privilege doesn’t exsist” oh, I’m sorry you take for granted the fact that you don’t get shot at traffic stops or become physically ill when your the only one in the room

But see it’s not only the extemeists that are dangerous, it’s the common, staring for a second locking your doors at the sight, not walking down the same alley at night, asking invasive questions, making “jokes” racism that’s dangerous.

Just because you don’t think it’s wrong.
Doesn’t mean it isn’t.

Your a racist asshole. And you don’t realize it.
But then again so am I. Even when you think you understand, remember that you don’t.

So do the world a favor and stop and think. You can’t change your pigment but you can change your damn attitude.

Hatred anywhere is hatred everywhere. So advert your eyes from her face, she literally just wants to eat dinner too, and shut the fuck up about who’s lives matter because the real truth is if you hate the way you do, then yours is the one that doesn’t.
i have always lied about my favorite color
i don't know why...

i'm saying it's blue, like sea and sky
but i have always loved white
i don't know why...

i love it's pureness
and white reminds me of possibilities
i don't know why...

the only thing i know for sure
i'm always striving for it..

The static speaks my name and it's driving me insane,
the night's stars are it's eyes and I watch it right back.
Shadows cast on the blame, but still lighting up the pain,
I'm covered up under the skies with a veil pitch black.

The silence overloads my brain, and each thought's wasted in vain,
with a million possibilities that will never occur.
I am shackled with a moral chain, but it supports me to refrain
from a sense of humility that I can't ever deter.

I find each locked door more outrageous,
and I'm left like before, wondering if I'm contagious.
Why would they comfort me instead,
of putting a gun straight to my head?

The static speaks my name with pronunciation it can't obtain,
if white noise could stutter it'd probably have quite the drawl.
Questioning if I should feel shame, if I'm a painting or a stain,
or just a curse you mutter like graffiti on the bathroom stall.

I find it all dizzying and real dangerous,
I'm wondering if my misery is contagious.
Why would they comfort me instead,
when they could just leave me in my bed?

The static shrieks,
the floorboard creaks,
the river's dry but the faucet leaks.
The static shrieks,
years came from weeks,
I live in quiet, only silence speaks.

I plan my life in different stages,
I wonder if my strife is contagious.
Why would you comfort me instead,
of letting me follow the path you led?
Lj 2d
he was black.
the colors of his emotions
spread like darkness
amidst of the glow
she gives.
bored. all i could think was you.
df 1d
don’t be cruel, my love.
this world is painting
you gray
where the colors once shone
the brightest.

let’s not let this wicked
system overtake your kind soul.

you painted me when i was black and white,
so take my hand
while i restore your
lilacs, blues, and reds.

my dear, let the light
shine through.

{d.f. | 09/28/17}
i hope you have the loveliest weekend. -love always, d.f. {p.s. instagram.com/inafieldofchaos}
Nazanin 4d
Cry, cry lil darlin , as so far
You were so fragile for this war
Come here time is in my hand
Come here where the rabbits are.
T R S 4d
Black and greyscale
With white light
Density is pigment
With white light
Colored pencils write
With white light
On pages covered in black.
Xant 5d
In a merely daunting hallway
I walked what felt like miles
Hands coming out of under
Pulling my legs,
my arms,
and my head
closer to the wall
trying to swallow me whole

Outside the only window
was a yellow light
dim and soft
soft as a kiss
But as I got deeper into the hall,
twas the time my eyes could see
in the dark

I found a door!
And a lady walked out of it
She cried,
she walked fast
She also shed her tear
with a white wool handkerchief
that's been red from blood

I peeked inside
And what I saw,
a beautiful figure
of a young lad
hanging five inches
above the floor

Hands kept pulling me
everywhere they want to pull me to
But now they did not seem to try
to swallow me whole into the wall
It led me a to another door at the end of the hall

I slammed
and you were awoken
from your dead-like sleep
You smiled
And you spared me
a space on the bed
for me to sleep in

You smiled
as you covered my cold flesh
with a white wool blanket

And when the sun shone behind you
I smiled
"Thank you for the blanket', I say
'It was warm'

-A poem of a dream-
I had a crazy dream last night. And I decided to write a poem about it, if you're interested to know what the words really mean, feel free to contact and ask me about it!
Next page