I’m a rainbow of ethnic reigns built from generational clouds.
I’m a mocha sista with a caramel sparkle hip hopping through the specks in my skin
I’m chocolate melted into milk pudding reflecting ancestral triumph
I’m brown and white producing black baring historical bitterness of red white and blue
I’m a rainbow of ethnic reigns built from generational clouds
Yet it’s not enough
I should be black and blue with tragedy I feel deprived to not have experienced
I should be crimson red with the blood stains of unnecessary public abuse
I should be of darker complexion so I understand the complexity of colorism
I should be lighter because the heaviness of what I am saying will leave me rejected
Do you have anymore suggestions
I am rejected by the people of the race because I signed up for a different marathon
I didn’t witness unfair imprisonment or fear the enforcement in my neighborhood
My neighbors were pale with skin reflecting a raisin in the sun
Never was I uncomfortable with the skin I’m in until I met others with similar tones
What I didn’t realize is that our band was the same but we marched to different beats
My skin is stripped of color because my life doesn’t reflect black pain
My existence is questioned because I choose not to protest in the rain
I am ashamed of the pain my parents kept me from having to feel
I am broken from the healthiness of an upbringing that fought to show me more
You think we have nothing in common
My innocence stripped from me while I cozy under the protection of a loving home
Adventurous tentacles belonging to human extremities found my secret place
Not deep enough to bleed a breaking of skin reflecting what I have lost
Leaving me the penalty of explanation throughout decades of life
Hymns sung in the background of my never ending cry for help
But there was no answer
My smile bleeds the crystal meth of what was seemingly comfort
Leaving me temporarily subdued under a protection that never existed
I am not battered by public shame or disgrace therefore my blackness is questioned
The melanin lacking in my flesh is made up for in the brokenness of my spirit
The blackness missing from my lack of bruises is made up for in the darkness of my heart
The effort you think I lack lies in the painful triumph of every breath I take
My brokenness has no color and pain knows no culture
I join not the fight of activism colored with historical shackles
Because in my present situation is more painful than I can bear
My wrists are bound by history’s handcuffs and life's current pain
My body has been injected with paralysis that need no metal as it’s support
I’m not your black sista and this black life; I’m not sure really matters
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