There’s one thing I still need
To be who I know I can be.
And on this deserted island, with no company but my own
Can I be free?
My answer comes
As I catch my reflection in the water.
The judgment in my own eyes taunts me
The brown skin so used to struggle
Now struggles to survive.
This judgment a product of my mind
Which has become society's echo chamber
Interrupting this island's unending silence
To repeat the things I have learned to accept as facts.
The teacher that told me,
"You'll never learn"
Or the older white man who once sneered
"You'd do better work on your back"
I was born this way --
Too poor, too dumb, too big, too black.
So on this island
Hungry, bored, scared, and lonely --
What do I realize I cannot live without?
What do I need to carry on?
It won’t be a book, a dog, or a phone.
Not my mom or my dad
On this island
Have patience, please
As I muster the courage
To honestly answer
The question posed to me.
It is to be unchained, to be truly free.