My melanin glistens when I walk outside.
I am like a horse with a brown coat and black kinky hair.
Like a horse, I am strong and powerful whether surrounded by others or on my own.
But my melanin brothers and sisters and I are gentle creatures believe it or not.
Like a horse, if you come correct we’re correct.
My melanin skin tone separated my ancestors from my Caucasian brothers and sisters.
But my past relatives did not fight or lose hope.
No! Instead, they stood together stronger than ever embracing their pretty brown skin tone.
Never giving up, they broke free from the separation full of joy.
“Free at last, Free at last, Thank God almighty we are free at last.”
(Martin Luther King Jr.)
Statistics say I won’t amount to anything that I will be in jail or dead by age twenty-one.
My melanin pigmentation puts fear into the eyes of few of my Caucasian citizens.
Growing up as an African- American male now of days is scary, maybe even dangerous.
Instead of the birds and bees talk from my parents I was given what to do if I’m pulled over by police officers talk.
But I refuse to let statistics tell me who I am, I am and will be black excellence.
Yes, I take pride in my melanin but never will I only depend on my melanin.
My ancestors past is the past and now I look towards the future.
While others may not see it that way and my people are still dying I hope for a better future.
Instead of being what those people want me to be I choose to be who I want to be.
And I want to be a role model for my younger melanin family.