Learn more about other poetry terms
What is beautiful Can be ugly What can be bad Can be good It all depends on the eyes The eyes than can see through the bias That surrounds everything White Can turn Black
Child, You are ignorant. Ignorant to the horrors of our world. Hatred. Evil. Corruption. Destruction. No,
A jello mold of strawberry jam. A wrinkly little worm. A mind so painfully ridged even the thought of it makes me squirm.
Who am I? Now just try
I am whoever they say I am It is unfair to let a person judge themselves. It is the world who shapes us without filters. We sit here studying books all on our shelves.
yes, sir, you were rude- that is the stony fruit! yes, sir, you were mean- you'll go to hell,
Favoritism If I accused you of this, what would you say Do you know it only makes my self-confidence decay I'm sorry you aren't friends with my parents
Down the halls its hard enough “Fag” “Gay” “Queer, that’s never enough Into the locker my face gets stuck A teacher walks by and gives me a shrug Finally in class In the middle I sit
A test score does not determine my capabilities; how quickly I can bubble in answers does not measure my intelligence. I am not a statistic, another paycheck, a number.
Teacher. Oh, Teacher. Across the room you scan with your eyes, Somone to call on it's always a surprise. But there's one thing you don't know, As you look to and fro. That every child has their own story,
Imagine a place where all is good Where money is weak And hate is poor