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Black Bliss
For years my silence has been a trophy
My suppression an award
Something I had no choice over
The entire 3/5 of me couldn’t vote
So why would would I, as a whole person chose the same fate
Unless if wasn’t a choice at all
Unless I wasn’t meant to have a say in who controls me at all
Dark bodies don’t get to choose what happens to them
Laws installed to instill fear in minorities
Dark bodies remain still objects
Never meant to be eye to eye with white skin
Always faced with brick walls and closed minds
Like why do black people need a national anthem
How do they get to own hairstyles and words
Like you don’t get a whole a nation
I mean I’m starting to think people are jealous
I just exude too much “black privilege”
Well then why am I still at the bottom of the food chain
Why do I always get eaten first
So I piece together chewed up flesh and put it back on the market
But how do you fix something that isn’t broken
But you know it’s gonna shatter soon
Repair a system with missing pieces you simply don’t have?
They say a poor craftsman blames his tools
But I never got any to begin with
My reparation was not worth 40 acres
Forced to make masterpiece from debris
Forced to make voice with hollow throat
Land built on lies
So why wouldn’t the polls reflect that
Why wouldn’t we be stuck standing for a country that doesn’t stand for us
Maybe we don’t know the power of our voice
Can’t fathom how black skin on ballad could validate my being
So I don’t vote
Chocolate coated voices more hollow than chocolate easter eggs?
Melanin soaked souls told that they shouldn’t exist
So why even try to live a life we already know the ending to?
brown bodies invalidated
Told that they’re asking for too much
When we ask for celebration we are faced with a rebuttal
Like if you get a black history month
everyone else will want one too
Fighting towards liberation is seen as fighting against America
My passion is anger
My existence is a protest
My protests are protested
THERE’S no reason kids should still be saying the n word in February of 2020
There’s no reason I should still be writing poems about voter suppression and vodka soaked
But look where we are now
At what point does ignorance become racism
At what point is my oppression intentional
What makes you think your freedom of speech is more relevant than my respect
Your identity isn’t any more valid than mine
I’m tired of having to hold adult duties when I’m still a child
And you should be tired of upholding 300 year old values when you’re 17
And I refuse feel unwelcome in a nation that was built on my back
I refuse to carry a burden I didn’t create
On my bruised back because you think the scars should’ve healed by now

Daysha Straight is a junior at Walter Payton College Prep and a member of the school’s Louder Than A Bomb poetry team.