Words.

The sun

I see the sun rise as if it were to greet me.

I listen to the birds chirp as if they were to free me from the chains that bound my body to the ground.

I feel the cold metal upon my wrists as if they wanted my soul as well.

I do not eat because I am afraid of being poisoned.

I have not spoken because I fear they will want to take my education from me.

I am dark, but not black.

I have dark eyes, but they're not black.

I have a soul, but it's not black.

The only black thing about me is my hair. Now how dare you call upon my ancestors for slaves?

You take them away from their land and make them dig their own graves.

You fill in those graves with the bodies of many, burying a culture for centuries.

And now you ask me why I'm so angry.

It's because of my skin, surly it is.