I’ve never thought much about the color of my skin.

See I’ve always been taught to only focus

on what lies within.

The problem with the real world is,

no one really listens.

Different stories, different glasses,

in all these different prescriptions.

I’ve come to realize my prescription

is quite simply, brown.

It’s no surprise to me,

but I don’t understand how

this could be such a defining factor

on what makes me, me.

It’s like looking for years

and finding out you’ve never really seen.

So I put on these glasses,

and I walk on my own

but places like these make me feel so terribly alone.

I’m tokenized for my skin,

I’m called this and that-

They tell me to be strong,

and to never look back,

but it’s hard not to break

every time I find out

about the history of us,

and what it’s really about.

All the things they don’t say,

and never touch base with in class.

Being brown was a sin,

but they’d never say that.

Eyes locked on me,

for the color of my skin

in a world that doesn’t care much

about what lies within.

And whenever anyone asks,

I’ll stand tall and proud.

“Why are you so happy?”

I’ll say,

“I am brown.”

-K.M.

12/11/16