Dear racism,

Who are you to tell me who I can be?

My skin is nothing but color,

but you’re stuck on the fact that we are another.

All you see is black and white,

meanwhile I’m seeing light.

The light of the future, but wait …

you’re trying to reappear.

Is it my successfulness that you fear,

or is it the rumors you hear?

You say I’m picking fights,

all you do is incite.

You must be intimidated

by my blinding light.

You are irrelevant

and will not hinder me.

After all, can’t you see

that I’m worry free.

Racism you mean nothing to me.

Sincerely, Janica