My entire life has been destroyed. It seems to me that proper reactionwould be anger, hatred and reciprocal racism. The fact that I don't act from these emotions proves delusion. If my acquiescence of the ongoing tragedy named Roxane is self-hatred; who would accept this pain, loss and injury, yet pursue normalcy?

The original is no more
what I built and cultured
is lost, stolen and discarded
I pick up pieces at a time
then compounding trauma occurs
Where am I hiding my pain? Why?
What real, steel trap
holds/hides my honest/human reaction
to seek though blind
deflect the truth
to grip the inflammations
that burn ignored diagnosises
seems foolish and stupid to accept
perhaps "Tobey" (ish)
Life ain't fair
and we don't care
was laughed as I was pushed
to oblivion or beyond
lost in a space
created for my race
I live in disgrace
marking a pace
with putrid taste
of my walk in waste
forced with haste
because I didn't know "my place"
couldn't see my face
forgot I was black
subject to attack
upright or flatback
left to wear a croaker sack
and live in lack
Damn, I forgot I was black
I didn't know they meant me
all that crime-drama T.V.
that couldn't be overcome by we
Oh yeah, I'm also a she
and should've never been me
a veteran of this nation
swallowing subjugation
allowing incarceration
followed by alienation
and vilification
the catalyst is a blue lie
alls left is to die
and I cry as I try
to figure out Why?

Roxane September 1, 1008