This is not an Advert.
This is rage.
This is pain from being imprisoned in your cage.
This is a trauma from which I cannot be saved.
This is not a sweet soundbite nor a fairy tale.
This is pain gnawing at the brain.
It is a pain, a memory that cannot be erased.
And, it is driving me insane.
This is upholding the blame for the torment that has been inflicted by you.
These are your words beating me black and blue.
Your glib sermons trashing my back.
This is rage unsurpassed.
This is a Blackman screaming in the dark, being aware that no-one can hear his screams.
Imagine screaming through the infinity of a cold vacuum.
This is the self-loathing I learnt in your classrooms.
This is the tragedy of being me.
I am not a subject you would wish to advertise.
I am alive but dead inside, your words pounding at my brains, they drive me insane, you with your finger on the trigger pointing at my head.