X-Ray Machine

I have a special affinity for the x-ray machine,
Faultlessly highlighting my bones, heart, and spleen.
It penetrates deeper than my skin and hair.
It reads me thorough, exact, and fair.

It looks past my appearance, my clothing, my occupation
Doesn’t consider my income, race, or political affiliation.
It states the facts, pretty plain and simple
Doesn't care if I worship in a church or a temple.

It doesn't limit my abilities based on my gender
Doesn't care if I’m tall or short, round or slender.
It doesn't bully me because I am different or strange
It doesn't coerce or pressure me to make a change.

The x-ray machine makes a profound proclamation
That not much differs from our initial creation.
Our bodies are created, essentially the same
The organs, the blood, the skin and the frame.

My purpose is not determined by outward characteristics
My ability’s not governed by culture or linguistics.

The x-ray machine shows us that we're ultimately equivalent
Isn't flaky, unreliable, hypocritical or ambivalent. 

Poetry Slam: 

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