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