#NoFilter - Spectrum

Location

no knife to my chest no slit to my wrists

yes life is a bitch but i still put up with all of life's bullshit

it may push me to the side, stomp on me

make me cry.

rip me off the wall then laugh at it all, like a

girl so innocent being called a bitch.

not knowing her struggle or who she really is

like them calling me African American when I'm really Jamaican

lies and hate being sprayed out like an oasis in a desert

having unequipped teachers writing red paint on the projector

disabling me and others of what we call free

but you don't even know how it is to be

locked in a broken down foggy lifeless community

rotting in the American dream

crying out at the fact that I am too American, technically.

Canada sure does look good now don't it?

any place other than here

we scream so far but won't travel past our feet

I'm telling you AMERICA ... is fucking us over and over, I'm through!

like a mid-day slave reaching for water and food

poisoned by the air I breath

beaten with the insecurities that he .. she .. throws upon me

I suffer and you laugh

my community and also my love do you see my tears go deeper than my face?

for at first I may not see the effects of betrayal

but my spirit is breaking, growing weak yet scared

my lips still tingle with the hope that's left

all I need is a hand, & a heart to join with me

In what we stand for

holding out my empty hand to receive a thought

only disappearing before my eyes

stay quiet and listen to the little voices cry, I'm telling you

there's more to this life than what we see

like living in the lap of luxury carrying the luggage they hold upon me

breaking barriers, focusing lenses

a sweet spray of  desperation on my tongue

pierced the muscle of truth and die the greatest

under stress and underestimated.

as a walking, hurting, burning, human being I smash in your face that you're s*** out of luck

self enlightenment fills up your consciousness cup

but my washed out brain won't let me give a fuck

too busy kissing ass and you watching to do the same

I'm telling you .. I'm not you

to take all I have to walk like this

put my hand on my hip like this, you probably wouldn't notice.

still no knife to my chest or slit my wrists

moving onward with no self pity

In this place i deem my washed-out city.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741