Privilege
I don’t want pain to be my only privilege,
Because, I’ve yet to grow as numb, as the many who are;
To them they tell me, to forget my rage,
And sit keyless inside an iron cage.
The anger, the pain, is freedom stirring in my vein,
If I cannot have that to keep me sane; then what else can I do with my storming rage,
As they paint a white smile upon my face?
This will not erase, the exile of my people,
The sin they torture and whip black skin with,
Blood dripping from their carnivores teeth, this only fuels my flame with grief.
Why can’t I breathe?
Life an exhale, an exile – in which I am to live though not thrive, nor survive.
No, the white man only wants another human sacrifice.
So I give him what I’ve got, a raging gale I will not hide, but become the weapon,
And then only I will survive – because that’s privilege,
To know in the end, I will be alright.