Why is it that in today’s society we are still not all looked at equally?
Why is it we get judged or profiled by our age, sex, and ethnicity?
Why is it that we get judged by not what we say but who says it in the 21st century?
I’ve tried getting my opinions out in council votes and circle discussions,
Then again I’ve tried the militant approach with force and by rush in,
No matter my approach there is still their mental inquisition.
I get looked at from the angle of where I come from, a coincidence or just this incidence,
Rather not, it is just the abyss of today's prejudice,
I’d rather, Escape reality in a fallout bunker, unknowing because precious ignorance truly is bliss.
I get determined based on of my physical appearance, not my locution or verbal report,
Not listening to what I have to say just the ignorant society's ignore,
Which makes my inner fire diminish and my confidence seep onto the floor.
My heart, mind, and soul, through paper and pen have surprisingly endured,
And they ask, why do I write? Listen carefully, and please be mature,
For it is the words written that are my left breast’s can of cancer’s cure.
Understood by my poetry, on what and how I compound words together on a notebook page,
Through poetic justice, I am un-cuffed and released from the jail cell’s cage,
With my poetry, I can say whatever I want only because with my alias, they can’t see my face.
Why I write? I’ll tell you why; I am judged by the content of my character,
Why I write? I’ll tell you why; I am evaluated on how I use each sound and alphabet letter,
Why? I’ll tell you; because poetry, is my doomsday shelter.
-Bernard T. Fowler II