As I progress forward to my destination most things that are in front of me direct themselves out of my way. The bronze-copper skinned ones do it, to some extent, but the pale-pinkish ones do it almost in every instance. Acting as if they are afraid of me. Move out the way quicker than quick as if touching me is like coming in contact with living toxic waste. Avoiding the slightest eye contact because the poison of my being would shoot into their sockets, encapsulate and dissolve their brain away. Hearts skip a beat when I suddenly just appear before them, their lives pass them by in a flash, them expecting a swift death from this cold blooded killer.
Part of me wants to lash out and dish them a heavy portion of the destruction that they believe I have within me, but I don't want to give them the satisfaction of finding justification in painting a gruesome image of my being. Head busting is not a favorite pastime of mine. Its something I get involved with only when there is no other way to go. I don't get off on violence, but if they're bringing a fight to me I've got to get down. The shade of my skin does not determine how prone to throwing hands, but ruff situations brings out the warrior in me. A brother got to be ready go at with those cowards who look at me out the side of their eyes, waiting to jump on me as soon as I let my guard down. I stay on red alert, while appearing as peaceful as a lamb.
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