I’m sinking down,
Into the muck of stereotypes I’ve,
To rally against,
But my flailing,
When viewed from above/below/outside,
Doesn’t help to erase,
The picture of an angry white man,
Comically tried for the first time,
Against a jury box empty of peers.
Air bubbles escape in apologetic fashion,
Before I can catch my breath,
And hold it, for fear of drowning
Out the knowing whispers of
“Told you so”;
The surrounding sound of a self-fulfilling prophecy,
Too heavy for me to carry.
I should have taken a deeper breath when it was offered,
Instead of filling my pockets with regrets.
I’m so sorry,
For and to myself,
For being and leaving you,
You and I deserved more,
But I’m too far down to reach,
Out and hand you yours,
Or wrap my hands around what’s mine.