They tell me I'm proper, too proper than I need to be

to proper for my "kind", I dress like "them" act like "them" "talk like "them"

"they" don't tell me that I should be more like my "they"

no, they don't but  I know they're thinking it. 

They? Them? My kind? 

Who are "they"? who's "them"? my kind"?

no! baby see I am me, for I talk and dress and act like ME

I am me the daughter of now the land of the free

I am me from the roots where our names aren't laughed at & are as beautiful as the meanings behind it

from the roots where dancing to the drums brings energy and happiness to our feet years back

from the roots where my crown can be as kinky and nappy as it can be & still roam the free air

from the roots where my brown can come in so many shades of honey and charcoal.

They? yeah "they"  these "they" tell me stories with just few sentences and don't know it

"They" are my mirrors and I am theres for they do not realize it

See my mirrors, they, are just like me, like me where the world sees us as the dirt on the ground,

mistakes our sweet beautiful shades of brown as something so evil and dangerous.

I am not "them" not them where their pretty shades of peach is seen as better quality 

where their silky texture is highly praised and secretly desired by the sweet shades of honey and charcoal brown

where their appearence is neat and clean

where their presence sooths and calms the soul of others

where they voice sound well educated 

no i am not them  

but my crown is silky as their silky texture and secretly desired from time to time

my appearence is neat and clean just like theirs 

my presence does sooth and the calm the soul of some

my voice is also well educated 

I guess that's why my mirrors mistake me for "them"

me and "them" have similar things you could say, 

that i belong to them. 

I am not them, and "them" are not me 

But we are all each other for we think like each other.