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
