The allusion to it implodes itself

Not imagined, like in the creativity of a child’s mind

Nor characterized, like in the fictionalization of a scary story

Instead, it hangs onto the kinks in my hair, onto the pigment of my skin

Genetically composing itself as a part of me

Passed down from generation to generation; locked into the bloodline 

Functionally, continuously, habitually, curling itself up in the attitudes and demonstrations

of kinfolk– killing kindly through words

the attitude of hate and self-told stories of victimization;

its ugly and grotesque lies stain the handprints that have been left behind

telling the story of its song.  

Listen to it. Believe it. Retell it.

Wrapped, entangled, living, lost in it–

Dictating how we think, how we move, how we react

—slowly turning from our brothers and our sisters.

“Cause unknown,” That’s the excuse we use— “Cause unknown.”

But it’s what we do– turning from each other.

It’s how we act, forsaking one another, and

It’s what we believe

–The Lie—

Fear told it,

we believed it and

sold it as truth