My Target

Poem about the benefits of emboldened fascist racists coming out of the closet

My Target

What are we seeing?

The ugly truth that was always there.

It's always been peeking out at us.

Maybe more than peeking.

If we'd been looking.

If our eyes were not blurred.

Or half closed.

 

But now.

Now.

Now!

Our eyelids are being held open.

Indeed, we cannot close them.

And they tear up.

A different blurring.

 

Cowards.

Come out from behind your excuses and explanations.

Reveal yourself.

To yourself.

Let yourself know your ugly thoughts.

Put them up for examination.

By the tenets of your religion.

 

And I give you my thanks.

I, too, need to know you.

To crush you.

I need to see you.

To bring the violence you deserve.

Better you don't hide who you are.

I need to know my target.

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Reviews

[Mr. D]

This does not fight racism, it only exacerbates the problem. Black Lives Matter is always recruiting. You sound like you would be right up their alley. People are not fighting racism. They are only showing ignorance. That is why no one can get anything done anywhere. They are always at each other's throats.