I love yall, for real, but sometimes you make me feel dumb. Like the last time we met and she read her piece of poetry and everybody was impressed except, me. I wasn’t hatin’, I just didn’t comprehend it, but I pretended like I did ‘cause I didn’t wanna seem slow, you know, being the only ... Or like when my phone rings and it’s somebody black
and yall laugh ‘cause my dialect is just so darn cute or hilarious or whatever you think it is. “Aye lemme call you back kid.” Excuse me miss, but Sambo wanna know what be so minstrel show humorous? If anything you should be amused by the way I talk to you.
But still, like I said, I love yall for real but sometimes you make me feel dumb, so in my poetry I front like my vocabulary is enormous. The thesaurus is my best friend and half the time I forget what words mean after I use them, but I gotta keep up with the Jonses,
my fellow poets, my friends. Your intelligence extends far beyond the fields of my cotton ball brain. See sometimes I’m ashamed ‘cause I’m black and I aint as braniac as yall. Or, I have not been blessed with the same level of intellect as the rest of you. Furthermore due to my ethnicity I feel the pressure to prove that I am equally proficient at poetic composition. And I am not accusing you of prejudice however, such beliefs are often held sub-consciously, therefore I seek to write so eloquently all forms of bigotry open and unknown are blown to Hell. But I know I never will, and that kills me, ‘cause I love y'all for real, but sometimes you make me feel dumb.
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