Wed, 10/14/2015 - 16:36 -- Josey

I am an overcomer;

Not to be repressively ignored,

Regretfully the flower on the windowsill

That would never bloom again hidden in darkness.

I will not be labeled that tragedy,

Unexplained and easily forgotten,

A repeated reoccurrence, nothing special

Allowed to live in the boxes granted to me, even lucky to be granted

Title opportunities, in unreadable prints, imaginary.

I will not be blamed

For painting the world white and red and dull purple,

Dropping yellow on the paths walked

And seeking only the black lines drawn;

For believing the world is flat

A flat field only holding mountains

Constantly leveled with the judgment in a stranger’s eyes

Another name to be attached to long list of stats.

Yet I am not who you say I am, I am different!

I am an overcomer.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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