Your perception of me pre-existed, you saw black and you felt danger, you saw my skin and with it painted a personality from the prejudice of your mind.

You don’t know me, yet you assume that I am just like every other dark skinned man out there.

So that is why I feel angry when you cram yourself in the corner of elevators, if you could only realize I am the one who is truly backed into a corner, provoked by your ignorance, until I become what you painted me.

With your judging eyes, cautious smiles, and nervous actions you made me this way when in the beginning I was just me. Now after all you have done, and all I have done, I’m just trying to be me again.
I just want to be me.

you dont love me.. you just like how much i care about you.

Give me that piercing,
or that tat,
just make sure,
I don't look fat.
Let me puke a fountain like Niagara Falls,
just so I can fit in within these halls.
If I get a disapproving look,
it feels like a thousand knives stabbing me,
let me remain as a closed book,
so I can pique an interest in thee.
I am not me, what can I be?
I will not show you,
for fear of you mocking my plea.
So let me live my life so cold,
without finding myself as I grow old,
just to gain your appreciation,
while unknowingly causing self-deprivation.