I brush my hair while deep thoughts run through my mind as I look at the mirror.
Caressing my face in pain, I question myself:
What’s wrong with the color of my skin?
I’m just a girl who was on my way to school when a group of
people stopped me.
Pushing and shoving me back and forth
Language was used and voices in rage exclaimed that I didn’t belong here.
As one of them knocked me down, my face hit the pavement and the beating went on.
Terrified I was, I thought I would be left to bleed and die.
Lifeless with onlookers passing by
I cried in agony.
When will this racism stop?
When will people realize I’m just the same as everyone else?
Do I have to be rich and famous for my voice to be heard?
As I got up with a shaking voice, I murmured I’m just a human being.  
But I don’t think anyone heard me.

A little birdie once told me a tale
Of a girl
As sweet as an ale
With a gown bent in a twirl

A little raven came and sang
Of the gifts and shame
She bestowed upon the land
of twitter and fame

She laughed in fear
while She wept in joy
She got pretty near
Being treated like a Toy

But she got ahold of the air
She grasped every breath
She got as fair
As she could ever get

You came to me
Feathered steps
I turned away my eye
Ignorant being
To Ignore you, I never meant to
Busy, routine, you see
You wouldn’t, as you left, the same
Feathered steps
Why do you visit only once
And visitors you’d allow, almost none
Please answer
.
.
.




Dear thought :)