What is it about me
that stops you from seeing
the good in these bones, in this body,
in this skin so black
that it gives you heart attacks
to the point that you feel the need
to attack our hearts, our chests, our arms,
our backs with your weapons of hate.
"Please","stop", "wait"
are all foreign to you
when uttered by these big lips
on this black face.
Perhaps, that is all you see.
A black face.
But I encourage you,
better yet, I demand you
to expand your vision
and see through this skin,
yes, the one with all the melanin,
the one that you wish you were in,
and gaze upon my soul.
I am told by the likes of you
that my time is limited,
but we see different signs in the sky,
you and I,
for my ancestors tell me
it is time for me to fly.
So, once you unlock these chains,
or even if you refuse
and continue to televise my pain,
one day I will rejuvenate
and I will spread my wings
and I will fly.