Can you relate to me?
Not for just the Blackness you see in passing.
The threat is deeper and longer lasting.
Structured in a way that we unconsciously support.
We’re forced into an indirect consort.
When our eyes align, superficial feelings are pushed aside.
The aggressive treatment of my history attempts to hide.
Thinking you know one thing or another.
You fear me.
Quite scared to be near me.
Think you know what I want and why.
Something you own like your studded purse turns to the side.
Hoping to win a friend, a nod, or acceptance.
Flagrantly suggestive, mumbles are heard.
At this point, you utter several more words.
I’m lynched by your assumptions.
Can you feel the sweat and tears with each flinch?
Do you know your methods are taking a toll?
I’m pushing the gas, we can’t stroll.
I harness the moment.
I own your violence.
You can’t deny it.
I require your compliance.
You will not harm my silence.
Your word isn’t law.
Oppression isn’t the only flaw.
You can’t relate to me.
You’re just pampered and ignorant.
I’m not trying to hear it.