I am...

One who tends to dwell,

It's hard to tell.

I carry myself...high,

But no one knows...

What heavy tears settle behind my hazel eyes.

I am...


I am the master of everything unordinary.

Uncoordinately dressed.

A mess, but you can still see me for me.

Opaque, and open.

I am...

one whose silent cry is so loud,

I pierce deaf ears.

Come here,

I am promised to stay around,

standing my ground

Or be subject to fall for anything.

I am not my melanin

Do not assume I am a felon.

No sterotypes

But they stare at my type,

as if I'm the advocate of the devil himself.

I am darker than coffee.

I am lighter than dandelion.

I am human,

I'm still fighting.

I'm stilling finding,

Who I Am..

This poem is about: 
My community
Guide that inspired this poem: 


Need to talk?

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