If you could see my face right now

you would be scared.

I haven’t looked in the mirror in 4 years


if I do, I’m afraid it will crack.

I’m tired of this life that I’ve been living.

I want to revert to 4 years ago before the boy did what he did.

He cornered me on the street one day and told me to go back to where I came from.

He told me that I wasn’t loved, that no one gave a shit because I look


like it was a felony to walk around in my skin

he took a flask out and poured it over my head and as the liquid congregated down my face

It dripped into my mouth and I tasted that bitter, clear, oily, sensation

and it was gasoline.

He took a lighter out, drew a flame, and walked 10 paces away from me.

He turned around and called me a terrorist.

In a moments notice, a flame tangled me and refused to let go of me.

I woke up in the hospital with burns on my face, and my mother looked at me in fear.

When they discharged me it was raining outside. I lept of this wheelchair my mother was rolling me in and stood up

to greet the drops of heavenly water that welcomed me.

The rain didn’t care what I looked like, but I did.

I worship Natures beauty but no one worships me, but at least,

at least I have myself

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


Need to talk?

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