The Mirror

Justyn Werts

Getting told I’m not black
Got this boy in the reflection
Saying the same thing with repetition
Oh, how pretty an image
My conscience pillaged
From lies sold to me
By a wolf in sheep’s clothing
Celebrating the death of another revolutionary
So, look at me, homie
I wasn’t born bright and blue-eyed
I’ll die like you,
Lie like you,
Fight like you,
With fear in my eyes
Fear of the possibilities in my future
Fear that I’ll lie on the cold ground
Stained by red and blue lights
With eyes to the black sky
Oh, how pretty an image
A boy’s conscience pillaged