What’s there to say? What’s not to say? How do I say, “are you okay?” Without seeming privileged in some sort of way?
It seems I move on about my day after you say what you had to say
about the way
this country is ran
by a mad man with a hand the color of mine
Oh how that stains my mind
That I, me
The one who stands and would walk beside thee
Hear you call him and I
We
But maybe
we are we
Him and me
White and privilege
And free
The ones who will never know the price it cost to breathe
About the Creator
Esoteric J
Never going to figure this shit called life out. I’m sensitive but I can chew ice cream. I believe in magic and aliens. Rambling hoping that one day I’ll look back and realize my life was more interesting than I thought, or I was. Whatever.
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