The sinking feeling

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,

Like this.

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.

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