The Same
Stephanie Adams Whatcha looking atta me for? Tell me what do you see Besides, my black skin that is wrapped around me my black, coarse hair that resembles the black wool of a sheep my piercing seemingly black eyes, that you still see even in your sleep my big nose that flares at the sight of injustice and hate my untraditionally small, defined lips tightly held not to open the locked gate my big black hands, working diligently, only to have survived my big black feet, unchained to move too free and dance in the moonlight until sunlight is revived TELL ME! please Why are you looking at me? because, all you see is the blackness as still as a painted picture in a frame the shadow of a human image in the dark, a person without a name So, excuse me, I am Ste/pha/nie nice to meet you I’ll extend my hand, although it grasps nothing but inhumane remains believe me, we are less different and more of the same |