White Privilege Poem Novels & Stories

We always change garments like a chameleon, Whether we are yellow or blue, Pink or purple like a rainbow, Whether we are dark or white like a sky, Nobody can say. This world is sick and every day is a little more. Crazy people are always lying, but it's to hallucinate. Although they think they are always telling everyone the truth While normal people lie and lie a lot without stopping And now that I think about it, this world is subnormal. Well, the normal thing is the lie and it is rare, to tell the truth

Her voice was like angels singing. “Little Dove,” Adrien said as she started to walk away, her head snapped around to face us. “My father used to call me White Dove, until he banished us.” She muttered, more to herself than to us. “What?” I said. Banished? What was she talking about? “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that out loud. I sometimes forget to use my inside voice, but it brought back a memory. Well, a dream." “What is your name?” I asked her as I saw a woman walk out. She gasped when she saw who we were.

This led me to write this poem at my father's bedside in one of the hospitals he was admitted in. THEY THINK WE ARE FOOLS A bunch of jesters See their posters Nothing but impostors Pretending to have the answers During elections, they pet and court us After it, they rape and dump us It is clear how much they hate us Even when they swear how much they love us Their aim is just the common cake They just take and take Sparing none for those who bake To them equity and fairness is fake Is it because like in freelance We give them time and chance To show us the sweet dance

“Miss, why do some people like to pretend that they are deaf and dumb? It was obviously those eight people who caused you to drown first, and you were even brought to the emergency room. They obviously knew what happened and they knew that those people almost killed you, but they are still speaking for those perpetrators! “What rights do they have? Thank God you’re fine. What’s the point of their apology if something had gone wrong?” The more Miss White spoke, the more agitated she became. She was obviously furious. Sienna reassured her, “I believe that not everyone in this world is unable to discriminate between right and wrong. Miss White, just wait. There will definitely be someone who wi

Everything is the fault of others, and she has no fault of her own. For a time, Britany Santos had no strength to speak. But she still forced out a sentence, "So, Dad, Amelia Brich,Bright Santos, Elisa White , and I all have to pay for this in order to fulfill your rich family dream? Do you still think you are innocent now? Are others forcing you like this? What about us? We deserve to be poisoned, deserve to live in pain? Does Bright deserve polio from birth? Does Elisa White deserve to being carried away from the beginning? Amelia Birch deserved to be threatened by the son insect in her body all his life? Dad deserves to live with a woman he doesn't love all his life? "

Stop whispering sweet nothings to her! My angered expressions brimmed on my face, I despised what my eyes had to witness. The rage flickered, I was unable to hide it behind my dominant frontage. It was painful to watch her in another man’s arms once again. But, then again, who am I to stop her? As I was lost in surging my envious energy in the atmosphere which unwillingly was noticed by everyone, Mr White stood beside me. "Sometimes your silence speaks louder than your words, Vincent." He shared wise words with the live example I gave him.

"I see parts of myself lost in space, trying to seek an identity. I see my parched soul yearning to be loved by someone." "Brilliant imagination!" Blackwheel commented, standing up. "All the centuries I have spent in this lonely world, I have learnt without doubt, the importance of leaving an innocent man alone. I understand that a huge portion of ourselves especially the white zones in us wants to dominate and show the world that we can do more than what they are imagining, that we can exceed expectations if they had the guts to take a close look inside our minds." "Where are you heading to?"

Serena instantly thought of Maxwell, a man who talked about love but had no idea what love was. Her heart went cold and she shook her head firmly. Judy sighed, her hand squeezing the glass tightening. "I trusted you before because I could feel that we are people of the same world, who originally had a good life, but were forced into another track, Serena, after I met Blair, I realized that privilege exists in this world, and what we ordinary people fear and respect, they can trample on at will, and if they make a mistake, more than a few people to whitewash them, it's so unfair."

“Useless.” The third slap was brutal—open palm, full force. My vision sparked white for a second, ears ringing. The pain was bright, immediate, grounding. It almost drowned out the deeper ache. Almost. My cheek throbbed, skin swelling under the assault, nails leaving faint crescent marks that would bruise by morning. Good. Let it bruise. Let it scar. Let the outside finally match the inside—the rotten, feeding thing I’d always been. “I’m poison,” I whispered to the empty room, the words tasting like ash on my tongue. “I’ve always been poison. Vuk was right. Everyone’s always been right.”

Melinda noticed the shift in my countenance and she paused, looking at me intently. "What's wrong?" Melinda asked, her voice sharp. "It's just that… I don't know. It feels wrong to divide folks by the color of their skin. It seems like we should be moving past that by now," I said, with a low and smooth voice. Melinda scoffed, "This isn't about race, it's about power. The white fraternity is the side of good, and the black fraternity is the side of evil. It has nothing to do with skin color."