Confessional Thought

My black was my face and my face is my impression. Nevertheless, my personality cannot stop them from thinking what they will. I talk like a white girl. Oreos with extra milk. But the shock comes to them to figure I am a Bronx Girl. I am not hood. I am proper But still gets followed around stores. If this is what I experience, What the hell was the Civil Rights for? My equality is negative And so is my expectations. I can’t even sit comfortably In a subway station. All the looks And scoughs The “un-bias” coughs. Sometimes I wanna scream “Riiiiiiicoooolaaaaa!” Just to make it stop. What the hell was the Civil Rights for? My brother? My sister? My cousin? My friend? Don’t make no difference, They all get shot in the end. Is that what my future is? Is that what awaits me? Is this all I got? Up to age 21? 22? 23? I refuse to believe That the world hasn’t changed But I’m waiting for more hope To come from my white friends. I’ve finally got an answer. The Civil Rights was for this. “Civil Rights is for us To prove we can do it.” Straight A GPAs Voting for politics And breaking stereotypes. We are the people who came from the Earth We keep trees rooted Grass green, flowers blooming. We are the people who have a lot to prove. My skin is the Civil Rights Movement And I’m gonna put it to use.