America

Though my skin is white, I still have to fight.

For education, equality, acceptance. I promise I'm bright.

Actually, I'm Hispanic, but you couldn't tell by my skin.

Call myself hispanic, and it's considered a sin.

Not white to the white, not brown to the brown.

I'll yell at them, and not make a sound.

No one hears me, because I don't say anything.

Because I can't, I supposedly have everything.

Though my mother is Mexican, you can call me American.

I have found my identity, and it's about faith, freedom, and liberty.