You may look at me,
But why do you stare?
Have I grown two heads,
Does this cause you despair?
Did some wings just sprout upon my back?
Do I look to be crazed, like I'm going to attack?
Is my skin too pale, like a poltergeist?
Shall you protect yourself, from me, with the holy water of Christ?
Is my skin too dark, much like a black hole?
Do you fear that I may swallow your soul?
Shall you preemptively hang me upon a tree,
until I can no longer breathe,
And then proceed to blame me for your iniquities?
Is my skin too red, like one of the Natives?
Shall you pillage my village, rape my wife, steal my children
And then place me in one of your reservations?
Is my skin too yellow for you to bear,
Shall you place me in your internment camps,
Suspecting me for causing a great scare?
Is my skin too white, does it cause you spite?
Will I be the next victim of your Shoah genocide?
Is my skin just right, just like you like?
Is it something that fills you with great delight?
Shall you lock me in that cage?
Pummel me with fists of rage?
Shall you burn me at the stake,
Oh, such bravery would that take.
Shall you drown me at the sea,
So that a chill could soon take me
To the lands of deathly sleep
As was the fate of Poe's, dearest, Annabel Lee?
Oh, but what can I do?
I'm not as bad as you construe.
Shall you judge me, by looking at my cover?
Just know that there's more to me, than what you've prejudicially discovered.
For I am but just a human,
Please try to stand me, if you can.
No harm shall come to you or me,
If you'd treat me as you'd wish to be.
My skin is not a Kevlar vest
Cannot take these slights, without time to rest.
What shall it take, for me to be free,
Must I pledge my, sole, allegiance to thee?
Will you then stop these crimes against humanity?
Perhaps there's no escape, perhaps I'll simply fall apart.
Perhaps I'll finally be free, when death takes a hold of me.