Who am I?
I am me.
What am I?
I am flesh, blood and bone.
Why do you define me
by the colour of my skin,
the straightness of my hair.
You have classified me as a thing in your mind,
I have been rejected by those whose skin tone resembles mine.
I am a product of intermarriage and interbreeding.
Such is the blood that runs through my veins.
They have put me in an identity crisis.
I find myself searching for a people,
my people who I can call my own kind, but all doors shut in my face.
No living being will let me in. They have titiled me a wanna be blank piece of paper, because of a tongue that is not mine by choice but faith.
Their minds are in boxes, it...