They are yours…
And not mine to argue.
The peace I reflect,
I did not purchase!
Or am I about to barter it away!
Blemishes I have I do not hide.
I had no one there,
Protecting me with shelter…
To deny what others saw
When I appeared outside.
Sometimes followed by the law.
Just for being who I am.
A black man who is a descendent,
Of ‘this’ and not of foreign lands!
I wish I could sit and help others,
To dismiss their own conflicts…
With insecurities they self-inflict.
The scars I wear are not from fear.
Or from dodging comments from critics!
Whether they are far or near.
I am not here to re-adjust my appearance,
For anyone!
And whether or not that is clear…
Makes no difference,
To someone who has survived…
Out of the bowels of indifferences,
From all kinds who thrive.
Regardless of who I ‘regard’…
As being in or out of their minds!
I am blessed not to have them,
Define my life at anytime!
I am not one to solicit confinement.

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