My Skin

When people look at me they don’t see who I really am

They see my piercings

They see my height

And most of all they see my skin.

 

My skin is what makes me stand out in a crowd

A crowd that I desperately want to fit into

No one knows my true descent

But they make judgments anyway

“I bet she’s Black, she must be trouble”

“I bet she’s Indian, she must be poor”

“I bet she’s Hispanic, she must be from Mexico”

The list goes on

 

I wish they’d stop judging me based on

My skin

Look at my hair, my eyes, my clothes

Anything but

My skin

Stop making assumptions

All assuming does is make

An ass out of u and me

 

They don’t see the problems I have

They don’t see my funny side

My dumb side

Or any side except the outside

 

I am no fool

They are tools

I know nothing will ever change

They will continue to judge

judge because of stereotypes

and stereotypes only exist because

there are just a few too many

of one ethnic group that ALL do the same thing

 

creating a bad image for the rest of the generations that follow.

 

The End

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