Black Paint on a White Canvas

*I wrote this poem when I was 17, I’m now 33*

 

Surrounded and speculated as a

speck to be hated,

as a speck underrated.

They expect me to be jaded,

But respect is my payment

For I’ve been ignored much to long.

 

Seen as an urban monstrosity,

Man in the monster of minorities,

man dealing with poverty,

and many mental injuries.

This is my insurance policy,

For pen and paper are my only voice.

 

Taking paper as my opportunity

To offer unity,

You repel it back to me

Improperly.

You offer me immunity

To positivity

for you’ve already reached ecstasy

in your community

While I continue to search for nirvana

 

Your art of lying is abstract,

Add yours, subtract blacks,

Delete my salary, make yours max.

We get no vote, yet we still pay tax.

Grab the brush, or just place me in wax,

for I’m still black paint on a white canvas.

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