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Black, White. Muslim, Christian. Rich, Poor. We are covered in labels, And drowning in sterotypes. We can't break free, From the painful lies. My skin is white,
and to think for a minute that your corpse will bid you farewell– it’s a tragedy for some, but a mercy unto others.i can only pray that the taste of my death will be sweet,
The white woman at the DMV  Stares down at me 16 years old and in line for my first I.D. I take the photo twice to make sure it comes out right 
dear black folks i want to be white  dear white folks iwant to be black  dear halfcastes i want to be black and white at the same time  (much love to my kids) dear jews i want to be a muslim  dear muslims i want to be a jew can you help me out bro
When I was younger I felt very lost I played with my toys But didn't realize the cost I knew I had a mission For my curiosity to explore I searched everywhere But never opened the right door
I look at the shiney golden ticket in my miniscule hands. The fog from the train clouds my eyes as I experience nostalgia from watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory as a kid.
I am a black girl I am a black Muslim girl I speak for the black boy And the black Muslim boy I speak to them now   I ask of you what I wish
My name is Reda It means contentment in Arabic My mother gave me my name in reverence, finding meaning in a word that she could love her entire life
My name is Reda It means contentment in Arabic My mother gave me my name in reverence, finding meaning in a word that she could love her entire life
The Irony in this Nation   How a color A sound Can trigger someone’s mind to hate  The accusations and discrimination that holds a great sense of problem in this white nation   
they all give me wary eyes cross the road to avoid crossing paths pull their children closer  holding them tighter the drunk men hoot at my covered behind "Allahu Akbar" they say 
Poetry has given me an outlet to proclaim my observations of the world.  To proclaim how people are mistreated.  To proclaim my human experience to selective eyes. 
I'm an atheist, But that doesn't make me rude. Keep on trucking, theists, By all means, you do you. But I don't appreciate Being painted as the villain.  I'm not broken nor filled with hate;
Being myself is so hard sometimes. I am a muslim woman. I am also a vietnamese woman. I am a bisexual Vietnamese muslim woman. I am part of the first generation in my family born outside of Vietnam.
Wouldn’t it be amazing if the world had equality?   If we all had choices and freedom? Now I know what some of you are going to say Going to preach Going to cry We are equal But I disagree
Odessa stumbled in Bruised, bleeding, broken "Honey, what happened?" "Just some tea, please." Hijab around her neck like a noose Ripped silk and torn skin.
This is a group poem for four people, each person representing a number. I might add more to it soon :-)   1) On June 21 in UK, two citizens were attacked with acid - scarring their body 2)Just as acid hurts you physically
jihadjihadis     what was it?who are they?   Not a bunch of crazywar-fuelledblack-clothedextremists.  
It's funny howIf I wear a scarf on my neckPeople don't give me a second glance
once upon a time...We hear in stories as we grow up the wonders and astounding lives characters live, but when your town is bomb ridden and full of careless rulers, it's not a matter of a happily ever after, it's 
Look, what do you see? Do you think I judge you Like you do me? There are things I wish I could do But feel helpless when I'm around
2016 was the year I learned the definition of an anachronism, someone who doesn’t mold into their own time period, as if they’re some alien from another planet, a time traveler indefinitely stuck in the wrong century.
The times when I first used words to speak, talk, and prattle Were not the same experiences where I used them in a poem battle Writing came easy to me, so did speach and rhyming,
What do you think when you see that girl walking across the street?With her head held down, eyes forward, feet flat on the ground, the hijab covering her head full of disparaging thoughts?
Back when the two pillars of freedom collapsed A people, galvanized, suited up and axed The chance to make peace by going to war Without ever asking; What are we fighting for?
To my Country I am a citizen but to my people I am a foreigner They see me but they only see fighter jets and burning buildings  
I... Identity... Who am I? Female, A first generation American, Pakistani Muslim. Pakistan, base of culture
Recently I found out that a bible study made up of a few girls from my school discussed at one of their meetings how I am a hypocrite, because I say I am a christian, I say I believe in the words of the bible, but I also, quite loudly, o
1. Wear you skin like armor. The glow of your forefathers shines brighter than any bleach-drenched word that tries to erase the “La Illaha Illallah” from your DNA.
People label each other, it's what they do.
To be a Muslim "Terrorist", "camel jockey" You clearly don't know
You’re Muslim right? That’s pretty exoticIt's messed up how they show your people as so chaoticMy people? Who’s that? The people on the screen?My people come in all colors, races and creeds.
I.  Ascend Out of the Darkness                                                                                                           By Nabila Uddin  
They slam Islam What I am, a Muslim A Muslim woman But it's cool You can laugh I can costomize Go from a red hijab to blue hijab This hijab And that hijab I am a fashonista
The scarf that rests upon my head In Arabic, "Hijab" May seem to some a fearful threat Mysterious to some.   The names, the teasing. Whispering. The silence of my tongue replies
I am that HijabThat cloth, that fabricThat symbol, that fearIn people’s eyes Why does she wear it?
I want to ask you  if there is some connection  between the religious pendant on your wrist and the dark skin that it halos. I want to ask you if you can feel the collective sigh
Different x5 You see I am different No matter which way you... Swing it, write it, or say it Say it, write it, or swing it Different I am
Take a look inside my life I bet you think it's perfect no strife but its actually the opposite the constant consonant of a continent that's how my life is when you look on the other side but it feels like there's nobody by your side it's tough.
  it wasn’t my choice  i want everyone to know  i didn’t want to do this but They grabbed me They threatened me They told me my family would suffer i had to protect them
  Terrorism Isn't Me   There is one thing that has been bothering me That I must address It bothers me
Facing Adversity  There is one thing that has been bothering me That I must address It bothers me Just like a pest  
With my head held high And my hijab* a blazing sign Of my identity  I step out into the open world And a torrent of whispers unfurl Suddenly around me   Amid the stares, the looks, the sneers,
My hijab is my identity. It covers and protects me. My precious skin not to be seen by any eye. What ever happened to women being shy?
I am from the dry desertthe sands that dance in the windI am from the heat of the sunthat warms our heart at the time of warI am from the coldness of the winterthat settles in our hearts during tough timesJust because I'm a Muslim and and Afghan,d
  WearingHijabs and hoodies could get you killedQuicker than overdosing on prescription pills
  They have always asked us a question Judged us like a book cover And they expect us to answer   We’ve been through harsh times Of discrimination because of our skin
The morning two towers fell from the skies,Still can’t walk outside without questionable eyesStaring at me through preconceived lenses;I fit their stereotype.
It could be anything, a man strapped neck-high in bombs, Sunni sweat, dust and black curled chest hair   a grandmother with fresh mandarin oranges from the market,
When you think of islam, what do you see? A group of women covered modestly. Dressed in cloth that covers the body. Men all smiling and hugging profoundly. Praying to the One and Only Almighty. Giving charity and helping our friends.
I ended up doing this for a school project.
Hijabs, Prayer rugs, Tasbeehs, Salats, Bows, Pilgrimage I started with my creed but I forgot to say Bismillah first Because in the name of God, the most gracious, most merciful
Old people are worthless. They waste their life complaining, they can barely drive, and half of them are senile. They have nothing to contribute to society. Stop me if you’ve heard this one:
The Other Side Egyptian. What does it mean to be? Me, I would not know any more than a fish knows to survive above water. How would I know?
I do not understand. No hello to people on the street. Keep walking, keep walking Don’t make eye contact Shit, are they talking to me? Keep walking, keep walking. We are cold individuals.
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