Drip, drip. I sit, a fit coming on.
I don’t seem to fit in this slot.
Circumstances seem to favor me,
Occasionally, and yet I don’t feel
Comfortable. Like a slow torture,
Like trying to sleep in a storm,
Without the rain, without anything,
But my confounded brain,
Sensing storms that don’t exist,
On land as peaceful as can be,
At least until I hear the news,
Of other places, from other people,
Of all hell breaking loose.
Why must we fume and fight?
Why must we kill each other?
Why can’t we feel safe in our homes?
Why can’t people walk or drive
Down the street, without being harassed,
Without being shot at?
It’s crazy! What is wrong with people?
I don’t get it. Our world is not well,
And it is not well with my soul.
Is there still freedom in this world?
Some of my friends would say,
You are free because you’re white.
That may be true, to a certain degree,
But I am a prisoner of my own mind,
My own creation, my own upbringing,
My family, my schooling, misinformation,
Prejudices, confusions, delusions.
In this world, there are many types of prisons,
And the greatest prison
Is in one’s own mind.
I am trapped in my own mindset.
Ha! You’ve got it easy, I hear you say.
Maybe I do, maybe I do.
But we all carry demons.
We all have shame.
We all feel guilt, for something.
I am embarrassed by things
I hear, people of my race,
Acting cruelly, violently, recklessly.
People have lost their minds, I swear.