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Spreading my lashes outwards to the sun, moon and stars. Connecting bodies as a rhizome, Emerging here and there, lost in nowhere. Moulding rhythms, rhymes, tones, flights and falls between the words.
underneath my skin exists 60,000 miles of blood vessels 206 bones a pair  
I’ve been fighting for years. To overcome certain fears. That aren’t only mines but also have my mother in tears. To believe that I am black. And one day when I leave the house I may never come back. To think one day everything can go off track.
Hey,   Remember that time you had your heart broken by that girl you first loved?                                                             Not an elementary love, but the real stuff
I am the ultimate minority. Both of my parents are immigrant I’m black and Mexican, And I’m pansexual and genderfluid. It’s an odd and glorious existence.
I used to be afraid. Afraid to speak my mind in an unkind world That shut my mouth for me before I even opened it. I learned to sit down and shut up
Black man, I see the sulk in your eyes, The wrinkles, the bags of countless years of work, Trying to race ahead through the obstacles,
We live in a world where hate is still here We live in a world where you can be an unarmed black man but still get the nine bullets to your back Speaking up equals speaking back
Dear White America, You are not so endearing. I bear the thorned cross of an ethnic name, burdened with baggage instituted, from bloodened roots that cultivated this soil. White American Academia,
Dear Life Problems,    Why don't you understand? I want to be me!  But, why do you try to take over my life? You don't understand. It's gone too far! It stops here, now! You cross the line.
In your early stages of youth, that is the time to find out who are you? 
There was once a mermaid, From the sea. Who wished to be, like you and me. To freely walk on city streets. And find a place worn with peace. Her home you see, was wrought with strife.
Step one is to think statistically To believe that you are different and unable Boy, You are not superhumanYou are neither Jesus nor Michael Phelps, so don’t you dare swim More than fifteen meters in
The United States of America To some a haven of privilege And others a hell of prejudice There’s a system in place A list stating
Oh, say can't you see? I must fight for my life. I'll escape from this hell, dodging blows from your beatings. I will never be free to walk out through the night. I'd be tossed in a cell,
dear you, beautiful black woman you woke up to a nightmare, november ninth 
The Supreme Court has ruled that it is legal to discriminate against people with dreadlocs "It's not a race thing" they said, "It just tends to get messy."   Heinous acts against others,
I can still hear the cheers and tears of happiness I can still see the crowds in the streets chanting his name Waving the flag with pride and seeing a ray of hope During a time where we had seen so much tragedy
Surround by color once a son Interactions with white are with ones that held chalk Teachers as inspiring as the one from Woodrow Wilson Leaving for adventure after summer seemed fun  
Smashed windows Town stores burned to the ground Streets blocked Cars as our stepstools This is not peaceful Ruined views Torn down pews Yelled, screamed, shouted your brother’s name
I wipe my feet before I walk the street. Even though 8mile doesn’t have a welcome mat. I’m home.
My breasts are a burden To myself and sadly society. My breasts are a burden Because when I wake up in the morning they get in the way of me seeing my feet. My breasts are a burden
When I look from a distance A cry began to slay The wall has grown, before my gong has rung The nearing war begun beneath my soil that I trembled upon
As I grew, I learned to curse this sun kissed skin. It felt like a trap to me, plaguing me as leper- socially condemned being… but after I gazed at my brother, the blackened night sky,
she's a girl with a sense of wanderlust she seems so happy but she's just a remnant of a far-off age over the days her people change gone from the roots of a wandering past my, how it's seemed so fast
Arroz con habichuelas, las telenovelas. (Rice and beans, Hispanic soap operas) Dark skin is not equivalent to sin. Puerto Rican I am, I am Puerto Rican.  
History repeats itself it's why we're here again. Black versus white but this time it's times ten. We need to be aware  that this gon' get us nowhere. No! It's not him, her, or them; 
When my family came to America we became models me the model at school 4.0's and perfect scores and musical talent my father the model at work
I'm a minority.White, blonde, blue-eyed, middle class.I'm a minority.Straight A's, honor roll. Privilege.But at the far left side of the bell curve, I'm a minority.
Everyday is a living day  As i see people come and go by For some people is tragedy  For some others is heaven Twenty-two seven, Wandering in the streets Writing my life on these sheets
Because we are the broken and shattered crooked smiles on crooked streets treadmill runners yearning for a place to be Because we desire to be found as "somebody"  
  I would change the view of a minority, A minority currently is, Anyone who has squinted eyes, Or is darker than the average spray tan, but naturally.   Minorities are gifted,
  Rewind and Rewrite  
Somebody once asked me, “What’s it like being black in New Mexico?” Well it’s no field trip that’s for sure. I told them it’s like being on a vacation that’s lasted too long. Like being a old car in a new car lot.
  I wouldn't open up to you if I could...
 I wouldn't give you a chance even if others say I should...
Dear teacher Our GPA is not our price tag my worth is not decided by my proximity to the magic amount of 4.0 dollars. It's obvious what you think of the students not sitting in your uppity advanced placement seats.
(Read top to bottom) I am part of a dysfuntional minority, and I refuse to believe that I can change people's views. I understand that it is difficult to grasp but, "guns kill people," is a lie, and
I am not African American, I am not Caucasian, I am not Asian, And I sure as hell am not other. I’m just human.   But, where is that box I can check? The bubble I can circle in?
I write for the moment,  I write for the pain. Everytime I've been bullied, harassed, and full of disdain. I write for my teacher who told me to pick up a pen, because of her I write for the children, the women, 
Who are we, Nothing but the minorities. All you give us is blame for all the wrong you see. You say we take your jobs, You say we kill your children, You say we are a disgrace to this country.
Who are we? We, who razed down walls that kept us hidden, Spoke firm words that altered the face of the nation, We who stood up for equality in an unfair society. We are women.
Growing up i figured out that F that labels me is not an F for failure, such a minority in society but im growing up to be a voice in a million. I declare women leaders of this world.
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