Tell Me.

What is it about me that makes you uncomfortable?

Is it my skin?
That it’s an organ just like yours.
That is grows hair just like yours.
That it becomes warm from the sun just like yours.

Or is it my appearance?
That I have two eyes just like you.
I have ears, nose, mouth and limbs just like you.
That I put on clothes to shield my nakedness just like you.

Or is it my voice?
That it projects from my mouth just like yours.
That it sings and laughs just like yours.
That it can be heard just like yours.

Or maybe it’s internal?
That I have heart just like you.
That I have 206 bones just like you.
That I have blood running through my veins just like you.

You see, I can’t pin point what it is about ME that makes me less valuable than YOU.
For without this labeling of race, you wouldn’t know that I’m black.

You can identify on paper we are equal. Once in your presence I am less than and you take my life as if we have NOTHING in common.

Because to you, I am not equal. I’m not a person, I have no soul, I have no spirit. I’m just a body with no connection to anything substantial. An object, that when found useless can be discarded at a blink of an eye.


You have ran out of excuses to justify how you treat me. For we all need air to breathe, food to eat and water to drink. Unless I have a false definition of life? But I am certain that is not the case.

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