Shame

What does it mean to be black?

To be so overridden with hate of self?

The state, the pain, the lack of self.

Is it just another way to be enslaved?

See Africans we fake at pride

We laugh at slogans like black lives matter

Think we are so morally above the shame

Yet we chase the fame, that paved this game?

Our generation we are not the same.

Pure voices conquered by the bleachers and the fakers

Singing black is beautiful

Then hunnie why do you indulge the paint?

See there is beauty in our flaws

The tainted messes, the hearts, the racists

The sadist, the teacher, all sun kissed creases

But there is no pride in our silence.

We are no heroes when we are afraid.

With bullet holes bought from social media

And social fame bought with our soul freedom.

Call it vanity, but we are a black out masterpiece

Me, my beauty is skin deep

But i am not more than my skin

I am my skin; i am the jewel of Africa

The symbol of pride, love, of freedom

The roar of Simba, modeled by the heavens and I shine.

So why do the words on this paper, question the draft of my own sanity.

Why do we accept the version we're sold with no thoughts and no clarity.

We ignore the gravity of this war

We ignore the gravity of our silence.

For with blood we fought for freedom

But with shame we've lost our mental right to be free.