Just because you’re Black and you live in a Black community, which has been projected as a community of criminals. This is done. And once the public accepts this image also, it paves the way for a police-state type of activity in the Negro community. They can use any kind of brutal methods to suppress Blacks because "they’re criminals anyway." And what has given this image? The press again, by letting the power structure or the racist element in the power structure use them in that way.
my favorite thing in stories is when the antagonist doesn’t die, but instead they realize they were being kind of a stupid dick (maybe because the protagonist saved them or something) and then they have to kind of awkwardly tag along with the heroes in order to make up for their mistakes and gradually become slightly less evil
1.) Most people spend their entire lives trying to break away from the pack and be different.
They forgot about the kids like us who spend their entire lives trying to catch up to the pack an be normal
To be normal.
To not have your heart placed in handcuffs with the ever growing threat of cardiac arrest
What we wouldn’t pay for 3 seconds of silence from ourselves. All we ever wanted was peace. But if you close a peace sign and turn it sideways it becomes a pistol
Why is this position so familiar to the both of us
They say silence is deafening. So are gunshots.
2.) a close friend of mine once said it wasn’t safe to love a woman who thinks like a weapon. I asked him what to do if both you and her were AK47’s who like to fire sporadically at their own reflections in the hopes of making holes large enough in the mirror to escape into.
What to do if your mind had a really itchy trigger finger, and placed a bullseye on the back of a head that looked a lot like yours, what to do if your skin was the antithesis of Kevlar and that was extra hard for kids like you and Her who wore their hearts on their sleeves
3.) you were Egyptian. But no one ever told you that you were once a queen, only remembered you as an object who picked cotton. I guess that’s why they call it “fabricated truth.”
But you had a good knowledge of your heritage
So you found your culture and learned their language. I just always wondered why you decided to make your razor your paintbrush and write hieroglyphics all over your arm like your wrist was ancient papayrus
Your skin is not papayrus
Your skin is not papayrus
Is the building block for every ancient pyramid
Dark, Brown, Tough
And it doesn’t crumble
Don’t try to raid the tomb of your veins
You’ll just be stealing all the gold buried beneath yourself
4.) I said I was celibate
“I don’t give a fuck”
We laughed to keep from crying
Crying over a grandfather who dug my childhood innocence a burial plot with the same bare hands he molested me with
Crying over ex girlfriends who said I pushed their comfort zone too far
Crying over the people who ate our sanity with the forks in their tongues
Crying over men who told you your body was a temple so you would get down on your knees for them
5.) I’ve been trying to find God. The doctor just told me he didn’t know the name of that pill
6.) I will try to be as close to god for you as possible. Answer your every call when anxiety attempts to crucify you in social situations
I will be a martyr for you before you decide to make one of yourself.
But if I get the stigmata we won’t be able to hold hands anymore
7.) I am sorry for the broken you received. I think we need to pick up the shattered pieces of ourselves before we try to piece together each other. And baby, when I said “
I’ll show you mine and you show me yours
I was talking about scars