the gun designed to kill hitler

I Don’t Like Triggers – Poem

What do you do when they won’t look at you?

When looks perceived are looks believed?

When questions about one’s hair or skin are seen as questioning the soul within?

When the comments of one clown can taint the name of a town?

Where do we stand?

In the beginning it was all about form.

Depicting images of the norm.

Then it was all about the word.

The word was the bird

And the bird is me

The word was heard

The herd spread the word.

Then it was all about image

The promise

The premise

The captured souls.

But, didn’t we know?

Now, it’s all about triggers

Black people using the word *****

Where will it end?

Driving me ’round the bend’.

 

Fin.

by Samantha “unextraordinarybint” Harris.

 

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