He sits in front of his bedroom window

A street light illuminating his face

Conniving a dangerous and deadly scheme

In the name of preserving his race

He devotes no thought to right or wrong

Morality has no place

His only concern is with the task at hand

Introspection takes up too much space

He looks at the digital clock that sits

On the shelf he constructed from crates

The glowing red numbers change with the minutes

With each hour his pulse starts to race

Slumber is inching around the corner

The dream realm he fights to evade

'Cause the fear that he masks with a cloak of contention

Reveals itself true in that state

His dreams conjure painful memories

of a paternal ne’er do well

And a drug-addict mother with abusive black lovers

And a society that has damned him to Hell

His anger explodes inside his mind

He cries out in his sleep

The pain of feeling alone and unloveable

Produce wounds that cut far too deep

He wasn’t always full of bitterness

Or the anger that keeps him chained

To an existence of loathing those different from him

In a society where different is shamed

But better them than him now, he reasons

His sad life has left him prostrate

How best to disguise the pain in his eyes

Than to don the blindfold of hate