Race-ish

A Poem by Apollos

Let’s talk about it

Your race looks like this...
Your face is the shape of a...
Your great’s defaced the nation of...
You need to replace your tongue with our favorite love language.

You took the Apple from Eve.
You bear the Mark of the Beast.
You can’t control your thoughts in your sleep.
You hate what you can’t conceive.

I’m not race-ish but...
You know what “they” do?
Why do they do that?
Who told them they can use that?

Devil...
Let me get my shovel.
I will bury you trying to be at my level.
I will condescend every time I hear your treble.

How primitive.
How dare you be inquisitive.
Who told you what you’re able to fit in?
I’m at my wit’s end as I hear your diction.

Your goals are fiction.
I’m tired of not having a box to put you in.
Deliver me from the stranglehold of control that secretly I know needs to be exposed.
I can barely look at my nose but I see now how contradictory I am in calculating my foes.

I’m low...
Should I hate my own?
Deride my pride?
Belittle cultural strides?

Has fear become my wife?
Has narrow mindedness captured my sight?
Do I have to add to the blight of seeing color as Darkness or Light?
How can I deny the vibrance I experience in your eyes?

Every Tribe, Nation, and Tongue will worship The Trinity in unity.
24 Elders fall down in symmetry.
Crowns crashing down at the sound of His thunderous cloud.
Praises ring around the King of Kings & Humbler of the Proud.

It’s not about you vs. me.
It’s about our birth from the same Tree.
I’ve been delivered.
You have been set free.