Dear America,
Stop touching me with your eyes,
judging me.
Comparing me to your previously conceived ideas
about the color of my skin.
Stop assuming you know who I am
without a word of conversation,
deciding who you want me to be.
I am who I am, but you would never know,
blinded by somthing oout of my control.
I am not who you want me to be.
I am simply me!
This poem is about:
Me
My community
My country
Our world