Why Are You Angry? (P)

Why are you angry? Your skin envelopes your arms the way our very grass hugs broken trees.

We stem from the same formed soul.

Yes my eyes sparkle a little more than yours, and my hair may be finer but that will never be the battle to fight.

My patience has never been very thick, and it will always run thin for the adolescent mindset of the old and broken.

You paint your flag on the same skirt of my yard, but I am the enemy.

This imagined white supremacy supplies stamps for your child's food, yet I am your enemy.

My white looks ugly, because your black is beautiful, and I am the enemy though that message is your kid's breakfast.

Tell me why you're angry.

Poor me, yes poor me, can somebody pour me a cup of the same tea that fills your empty hating hole.

Plead black power and the university carries you.

Use black power and the job description will fit you.

Yell black power and the system will forgive you.

Whisper white supremacy and the system will kill you.

United we wish to stand, yet my color stands no chance in the same room as yours.

Black lives matter. Yes black lives matter, but my white will matter as long as my matter matters to somebody.

I should be angry.

My color might not please you, but pleased you must be to announce that. The world just has to know that you're uncomfortable because you're not secure.

You're insecure.

Your black can't crack because you're already swimming in pieces.

And my white can't fight for my rights as a human because the system wants me dead.

So why are you angry?

Tell me why you’re angry.