Melanin Pain

By Shamiya Conley

Our skin is as pure as gold

But we are still treated as dirt

We will not beg to be equal

We will be loved

No one hears the voice of our tears

Like a leaf slowly falling down

They will never understand the pain of our prisoned spirit

Everyday worsens by the minute

Anxiously wondering when our time is up

walking in a nosey caucasian neighborhood

Feeling anxious to do anything

But I still stand tall with a brave heart

Blood, sweat, and tears

Fill the roads of a peaceful protest

Full of angry souls willing to make a change

For the next generation

But for most caucasians,it’s purposely strange

Bullets fly by body to body

But one ends up chosen

Falling heavily to the ground

Now the body is frozen

We’re treated as trash

Or a dog with no home

Just because of our beautiful, colored skin

We can’t help our melanin

But it will forever be pure to our prisoned soul