Dear America

I'm black

My nose is wide

My hair is nappy

And my lips are big

 

I'm black

I don't live in the projects

I'm not poor

And I have both parents

 

I'm black

I love hip hop

Sneakers

And fried chicken

 

I'm black

I don't sell drugs

I'm not in a gang 

And I don't have a baby mama

 

I'm black 

When someone sees me

They see the things I said at the beginning of this poem

But they may assume the rest of the poem is true based off of my appearance

 

I'm black 

And I'm proud to be black

I've been treated like a black person my whole life

But when will I be treated like a human

When will I be treated like a citizen of my own country?