Reflection From Glass

Reads: 40  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
How does it feel when you look at yourself in the mirror?

Submitted: August 15, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 15, 2012

A A A

A A A


I hate myself, this skin is tainted and I no longer want to be considered Black, I no longer want to look into the glass knowing that I am a man that has obtained nothing, yet the world tends to judge otherwise because of my skin, which for generations have been a means of ignorance, and stupidity. Still today they look at us like that and we aren’t smart enough to make the moves to change ourselves.

 

I hate how I look and feel inside. My heart is dead, my eyes no longer cry tears but bleed instead this blood which continues to be shed by those who call me names, those who feel what I say is nothing more than garbage spoken from the mouth, those that continue to reject me from every job because I wasn’t qualified. People never take the time to understand what they don’t know, they are however quick to judge because of one’s figure or one’s bodily language, always fearing that the person may be a threat, yet not a threat to them but a threat to themselves.

 

I hate these hands, these lips, these feet. I hate this hair, this soul which the lord above has blessed me with yet God even continues to let me suffer, not giving a damn about how my life is but always asking that I repent for my sins which I have cast upon this flesh, this Black flesh that isn’t beautiful, but full of rust slowly breaking off into dust, falling to the ground blowing off into the wind with a gust.

 

I hate our people cause our people hate our people, this is why they always win, and we always loss. Can’t you see that all I want to do is succeed yet my brother won’t even grab my hand up the ladder of success, yet he continues to brag about what he is doing and how much he is making. Ha, and you talk about me complaining. Fuck you I say this hate is the only real thing I know cause when looking and feeling don’t show what can a Black male do but just sit down and continue to wish he could grow.

 

Again I hate cause I’m not a human being, I am a construction to a world that has planted me into its destruction, a plan to make me hate that which is myself. Love is no longer an option because love never existed, yet you say you love your life, never for once questioning why it is you feel this way.

 

Damn I hate passionately, like when you bite into something you desire for and realized it doesn’t taste how you expected, this same is with life. You wake up and try to stay positive, try to survive however you don’t realized your dreams are always a distant memory implanted in your brain’s capacity.

 

Yeah, I hate and maybe next time you judge me you’re be sure to relate to this pain which you try to fake and never understand.

 


© Copyright 2017 Esquire H. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Non-Fiction Miscellaneous

Booksie 2017-2018 Short Story Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Esquire H

The Moment or Us

Short Story / Other

My Calling

Poem / Other

Reflection From Glass

Miscellaneous / Non-Fiction

Popular Tags