If Being Black Were ‘Right’

Imagine stepping out my door,

surrounded,

eyes that spoke to confusion,

always,

while trying to walk down the street,

a set of eyes,

joined together,

each pair in unison would shout

verbal carnage

and while walking alone,

with eyes downcast,

imagine thinking why is the color of my skin

leaving me so afraid,

no anger, no pride, no confidence,

simple fear,

without ever stepping out my door.