What Am I Here For?
No maybe I was only made for this.
This bloody evil struggle.
I wasn’t made to be my own art.
I am not I because concepts are not people.
I am only a pallid survivor.
Fodder for Missus and Masta.
Ready to be repurposed.
And damn if this pain ain’t nothing til it is touched.
By the erudite fingers of Whiteness.
I am not made for this.
I am only a concept.
I ain’t even this poem.