Glimpsed upon, hideous within the standing
others thoughts turned away.
For what was inside was perceived as inner
beauty, a collection of actions and feelings
portrayed within not the falsehood of exteriors

That which hung on the feature's deemed
those as shallow, unenduring a collection
of porcelain frailties  in compositor.  
Caring upon there grandeur and not the
reflections of others only gorging of
there own painting of perfection.

Repugnant of the stereotypes of before,
now those born of perfection frond upon.
Are we not on a merry go round of reflections.
Finding others of difference, not as we want
to perceive. Beauty is sometimes the curse of
those that wear it, for beauty is on the inside.

Sometimes, I am in love with myself.
I force them to witness my love for my melanin
because they would love for me to hate my melanin.
I know that I am seen, but I want to be heard, 
The first amendment allows me to speak, but they refused to hear a word-
that comes from my mouth.
My lips stereotyped as too black.
My diction too proper to act like this,
yet my slang is too ghetto to act like that...
Sometimes, I wonder what it's like to be white.
I hate being stared at when I speak in Spanish.
I never know if it's in disgust or in comfort, 
because the sound of the double "r" rolling off of my tongue
sounds like the ricochet of the bullets they fire from their guns.
Since they no longer can enslave us like animals, they slaughter us
because, "if I can't have you no one can."
I refuse to be put down.
I refuse to shutdown.
My brown skin threatens,
and you all should be afraid.
Because I will banish your negativity with my Latin American flow,
speaking in Spanish with the Bachata tempo filling my veins.
My Ebonics is iconic, 
and I refuse to be put in a box when the world is a sphere.

I... am more... than this.