Whiting Out the Shame

Wed, 04/15/2015 - 11:33 -- lyssaoh

I am privileged with the right to say my name

For the fame

Privileged with the shame of knowing they

Will always think less of me

Because I’m the one who has everything

The one with words to sing

A melody that will only bring

My perfect life to the light

Because my struggles don’t matter

And my heart, it flows faster than it beats

My dreams aren’t as ambitious

And my scene,

Not as vicious as the ones

Who are different from me

You’re no different from me

Dig deep

You’ll see that we have the same dreams

The same time to stop and breathe in

The world around us

 

Yes, my skin is white on the outside

Bringing stereotypes to my lifestyle

But do you know the color of the words I have to hide?

The ones I put aside

Because I’m too free to lead

A life that doesn’t succeed

I have too much to throw it all away

I am too privileged to say

That I face the way that you look at me

Like it’s my fault those people see

Someone different

You see, you and me

We are no different

We are no different

Only the world says we are

The ones who take strength and turn it to scars

 

Let’s face the facts

Of who I am

Let’s cram my life into that cookie cutter scam

Because the color of my skin says “supremacy”

Like I’m some fool with a big dream

To rule you out of the world forever

Like I have some dream to be

The queen

So take a step back and realize

That the whole world has brought you the lies

That I am a woman with everything in my hands

Here I stand

Here I land

In an island, isolated

Because that’s where I’ve been put, locked away

Left to run astray

Into the best of the world and the land of the free

But this land doesn’t house the brave,

It saves the afraid.

 

The color of my skin says I’m better

Somehow they let her become stronger than the rest

Gave her the test

But I am not who I seem

I do not settle with the gleam of my porcelain colored lense that pretends

To show you who I am, and

Show what message I send

 

So take a step back

And look on more time

To the words you have said about

“My kind”

You don’t really know me

You don’t really know me.

 
This poem is about: 
Me

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