Oh, the injustice that leaks into the soul, 

the way the world looks at me as though I am not made of gold. 

 

In their eyes I am just the sum of all the mistakes before me, 

the sin scrubbed into my mother’s psyche and the father’s hands. 

A statistic unworthy of applause.

 

Allow me to feed this world with the kindness they never gave me, 

let them bite their cheeks at the love that flows mercifully, 

from my open heart and open hands. 

Let me help the world become whole again. 

 

The teeth they once used to bite with become the very foundations of my empire. 

A throne of gold built on stone-cold words and empty stares.

The love I able to give that was never given to me,

that in itself makes me worthy.

 

The injustice of small praying hands,

folded for a savior and covered in lines,

lines telling of time and time again of the injustice;

small praying hands were too little to change the world.

 

I am going to walk with head held high,

fire in my eyes and pre-conceived victory in my every step.

Let no man or woman alike extinguish the thirst for justice,

the thrist for a future as elegant as mine shall be.

 

Injustice will swim in defeat,

just as I once swam in its unfair judgment,

just as I once swam in its malice laden eye,

small praying hands clasped and lips moving for a God above to hear.

 

He has heard;

and finally, small praying hands,

tipped the scales and made me whole once again.

Call it spite, call it determination, call it change.

But never will that injustice touch me again.

 

I am not my mother with small blades and thin, white lines,

I am not my father with a lack of love, filled with fear,

I am not the sins that created me,

I am a new creation altogether,

and that inspires me to conquer fears and do much, much better.