"How It Feels To Be Colored Me"

It's not easy to know what is true for you or me at seventeen,

When the color of my skin is what you really see

My short black hair,

My dark brown eyes,

All that speaks to you;

Is what your able to see.

You say you see no color.

How can that really be

When part of who I am

Is my ethnicity?

For I come from the mexican heritage,

So proudly I say,

But have you notice?

That we have lost are way.

This endless battle that we are engaged in,

Has made me see,

What it feels to be colored me

How so much pain has aroused,

When we try to see ourselves

Succeed, in a way that you can not.

This world confused and engaged in chaos,

Lost in each other's doughting gaze;

The fire that burns in each of us,

Trying to become something great.

The unsolve jealousy seen in our eyes

The depression that makes us

Wish we would die.

Then even through all this

Why do we choose to stay alive?

For we are stronger than you think

We do not give up as easily as you may think.

We face what we can't see

We speak our minds,

When you don't want to hear,

We fight for what is right,

So that we can have the same opportunities you have,

For the color of my skin is brown,

Were you consider what it means,

To love without condition,

It means to see all sides of me,

Yet love is your decision.

But I wouldn't want to be you,

I like myself just fine,

And I don't want you to be me,

Because we'll both get there in time.

All I want you to know is that

I finally understand,

How it feels to be colored me;

At the age of seventeen.