Do not tell me to love the skin I’m in,
When everyone around me does not.
It would be bullshit to say they don’t matter.
Because I’ve heard it my entire life.

You’ll never know this feeling.
Being trapped, forever, in something considered horrible.
I feel like I’m a walking sin most times.
It’s inescapable, an everlasting iniquity.

Wanting, with every ounce of your being,
To be something, someone, you’ll never ever be.
Left pondering why God made you this way.
As everyone, even blood, spits on you.

Do not tell me that Black is beautiful.
When everyone prefers the lighter beings.
When you cause my insecurities.
While black is the color, the very symbol, of evil.

People will not look past color and see beauty.
It will take most men a lifetime to notice me.
I don’t want your fucking pity.
I want equality, to feel as pretty as you.

So do not tell me to embrace my skin.
That’s bullshit, you embrace it!
I just want to co-exist without being tormented.
Ridiculed for something impossible to change.

Welcome to insanity.

Poetry Slam: 


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741