Unreal

Real faces suffer beneath a different mask
When a room meant to alleviate
 means discriminate
In the open expressions of another shade.
Separate but equal, an equation of prejudice,
Doesn't add up to freedom
How odd and uneven it seems;
Two doors force you to choose
An illusion for relieving yourself
In shackles for the menagerie of the unreal.

Since when does a bathroom became a prison?
When the uncomfortable itch
 of convention
Imposes a choice of confinement,
A false freedom of convenience
For those who saw different as foreign.
Jim Crow wasn't ready to sleep, sadly.
So, he dressed in macho wardrobes
Dangling a cross to justify their boot
On someone born the opposite of the unreal.

Inside of outside resides the real human spirit
Every facade serves as a bud
 ready to reveal a blossom
No finer flower exists to flatter
A fresh new atmosphere.
The gravity of bigotry prevents breathing
We choke ourselves in upright drowning
When fear limits our dignity
In a place not of our choosing
Partitioned behind the tyranny of the unreal.

Copyright © 2016 Charles Edward York