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