Black Star.


Intimidated by the idea of intelligence

Radiating from a supposedly inferior race;

Light bulbs fried by a speck of the Black star,

A contradiction in the face of stereotypes,

So what do they do, except project their fears

Directly on you?


Regurgitating rationalizations

That help them make sense of what they see;

Yes, surprise, surprise!

We have minds too.


I’ll be damned if I let you think

Even for a second,

That you can get away with

Imposing the idea that you’re better.

Look at me all you want;

More stares for me to quarantine

In the back yard of my mind palace,

Where the black hole

Of infinite disposals resides.


I know who I am and where I stand;

In a space where fumbling for missing pieces

Has been established as the norm

I bypassed the self-knowledge phase,

Through writing;

Better termed, my self-hack.


– Original-Dante ©2016


Photograph by: alvarola


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