To the naked ear I am silent with great fury, verbally violent with such a calm dismay of my actions day-to-day,
to a keen eye I am blurry, out of focus in a fiery synergy towards my angry hatred for the southern hospitality I instinctually release.
Who is this child of such complexity, who displays such pose to humanity's individuality?
Who is this fatherless child of religious spirituality and yet believes in EVERYTHING and NOTHING?
To the simple touch I am harden, displaying a strong shell casing of youthful wisdom and maturity… to the vivid and much aware mind I am insecure with my life dealings; un-eased with my tainted feelings and scream aloud quietly and bashfully as this persona struts down a street.
What a smile of comfortable conformity, seasoned lightly and cooked to a well-done glaze and served along-side the main course of American Black-Beauty.
Who is this soul of suck invigorating complexity, who displays such pride of the southern roots his grandma’ raised him to be; I ask! Who is he?
Who is this wounded soul of the awareness I speak?
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