Young mind

Brown eyes, black hair, brown face

We don’t look the same, momma we don’t belong in this place

Our hair is bushy, and our skin is too dark she says

Why does her hair wave at her back while mine yearns for my scalp

Why must her lips look as if she has just enjoyed a cold glass of fruit punch

Why do people smile at the sight of her while I get scolded for drinking out of a water-fountain that I can not yet read

Momma I know you say we’re blessed and we’ve came along way but I don’t like what I feel and its something I must say

I will say it with my black lips and they will listen, whether their ears be purple pink or blue, they will listen.

Martin Luther King, Malcom X, Rosa Parks – they spoke up!
I will to #YOWO