​I will not join you,
here in the end days,
in singing Auld Lang Syne
after all these years
of you giving tacit approval
to my being marginalized.
Now that your liberties
are being trampled
into the dust,
now you appeal 
to my sense of urgency,
talking about “have tos” and
“musts.”
You called me subversive,
and snickered at my
Africanized name.
Trying to look all
innocent
while admonishing my
“playing” the Race Card.
But this is no game.
I won’t be your
scapegoat,
I won’t accept
your blame.
Where was all your outrage
when I was being
locked up, and
shot down?
I looked for you
everywhere,
but you were
nowhere
to be found.

M. Zane McClellan 

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