Hispanics speak Spanish to me
Airports are afraid I’m a Muslim
Blacks think I sound like a white person
Most just have no clue what the hell I am
Maybe I just might be
American
Though, my birth certificate
Says I’m black
When you look at me,
Can you tell?
Is that too much to ask
That I just be American?
I feel sorry for the children
That are black like me
Too scared to love the ones they love
Growing up, told to pick sides
Children stumble when they can’t
Bubble in “American” on a standardized test
I don’t know anymore
What white is than black
And when I was child
I always just thought they were crayons
But now, I know damn well
There is no crayon called “American”
Louis Toliver Jr 