by Bianca Delarosa

No hope
For the child
Growing up
On the wrong side
Of the racial divide.
Giving up, on the future
You can be, whatever you want to be
But not me.
I scare you with my presence
Grew too big, too tall, too black
To be trusted.
I feel your eyes on me,
Judging me an animal,
To be hunted.
Should I shuck, should I jive?
Just for the chance to stay alive?
Or just be me and die?
Nondescript faces,
They notice me not.
Except to see,
That they look different than me.
Folding myself within myself,
I try to fit in your box,
Like an animal caged,
Inside I seethe
Considered a danger
In the land of the Free
Iíll always be a stranger.

Hopeless by Bianca Delarosa

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