Selfish Martyr

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 03, 2018

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Submitted: August 03, 2018



Selfish Martyr 


"Fuck the police coming straight from the underground. A young nigga got it bad cause I'm brown." 

My brown has been bruised and beaten by the ones I call brother.

I wish to raise my clenched fists but, I'm too sore from the cousin I tried to resist when I was six.

"Woop-woop! That's the sound of the police! That's the sound of the beast!"

The beastly men my mother chose as partners causes my spirit to crawl inward when people are too forward.

My grandfather beat my grandmother, my father beat my mother so excuse me if I choose not to be your martyr. 

My fight can't be in your picket line because I'm too busy picking off the attack dogs who've taken the form of black men. I am desparately trying to heal and protect my own brown skin.

"Fight the power. We've got to fight the power that be."

I've been overpowered before I even knew I had power. 

I have small reserves of energy that allow me to see another day, that's my victory.

PTSD and anxiety have been my best friends since I was like three. 

You see to me the powers that be are black men with low self esteem.

My Trayvon Martin was my little brother being stalked and beaten by my older brother because of the switch in his walk and the lisp in his talk.

I cannot be your martyr until my black life matters to the ones I call brother and sister.

No, I cannot march I'm too weak.

I cannot sit in, I'm too sore.

I cannot shout "fuck the police" I'm too hoarse.

I cannot tweet, my eyes are tired.

My battle raging on since childhood leaves me longing for love and like Lazarus I rise each day, sorry to say... I can't join your pickit line until you've joined mine.

© Copyright 2018 D.M. Spooner. All rights reserved.

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