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

I’m alone.


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.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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