I am the words on this paper which I write
Each line that forms expressing my life.
I am the emptiness in the mirror with no reflection.
The plies of makeup with no complexion.
The skin that bares my own identity
Instantly judged from those who look at me.
I am not the symbol of beauty, nor the idea of perfection.
Statically stated I am the cause of infection.
Characterized as absence of light,
But constantly harassed when walking home at night.
The horrid glances over the shoulder,
And the tight grip of a mother’s hand as I begin to walk closer.
I am the face that displays when disaster strikes.
The donation change asked for at the register.
Each coin a piece of who I am.
The journey of which society thinks I follow.
I am more than the nine o’clock news,
More than a projectile in a metal casing.
I am the physical strength of a force exerted.
A member of the Negroid race.