You speak of those with dark and light skin,

they're this way.. they're that way,

fat or thin.

You get asked the question,

"Why aren't you with us?"

You're black.


Some nod their heads, or laugh and let a smile crack.

Is it so much of being a color? Lightskinned or a dark

shade of brown?

You aren't with your own kind,

So you shamefully look down?


Maybe if you hang out with blacks you'll get invited to the events,

or sit with the whites,

and not be prone to violence.


Stereotypes linger,

to be forever called true...

not letting color form something new.


You're black so you must act a "particular" way,

if you don't then you must not be as "black" as you say.

Ah, but thus we forget each and all are human but

still you judge,

without any regret,

your dark heart holding a grudge.





I wrote this poem in a sense of how I feel in school at times. Being bi-racial it comes with a mix between being both races of black and white. But what does color matter? We are all human beings. All HUMAN. I don't act "black" or "white" enough so there is something wrong with me? No, there is something wrong with such an ignorant idea that there is a way to act a certain race. We are all human beings with many different gifts, ideas, talents, and characteristics.

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