Hello friends, I wrote this poem some time ago, after an experience of racism. The sad thing is that there have been so many that I can no longer remember which particular incident prompted me to write it. Anyway, for a change of pace, here it is:
You see me from the outside in
Distracted by the color of my skin
You see me from the outside in
Troubled by the color of my skin
You see me from the outside in
Agitated by the color of my skin
You see me from the outside in
Exasperated by the
Rich, warm, velvety blackness of my skin.
You see me from the outside in
Bothered by the shading of my skin
You see me from the outside in
Diverted by the pigment of my skin
You see me from the outside in
Angered by the darkness of my skin
You see me from the outside in
Disconcerted by the
Lush, smooth, silky blackness of my skin.
And what do you see?
African, servant, n**ger, slave
Every colored image, save
The one that’s really me.
Someone to serve your every whim
That reality was grim
For me, but not for you