OUTSIDER ON THE INSIDE

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OUTSIDER ON THE INSIDE

I've been black all my life, but since my skin don't shine, my own people don't like me half the time/ dismissed because some didn't have half the mind/ to understand that struggle does'nt have a complection/ light skinned brothers still got pointed in the direction/of the service entrance/ she gets nervous when it's/just her and i in the elevator/ but i'm cool because my understanding is greater/

I've stayed getting treated differently from my own people for being lite/ take a closer look at my features/ how could you even mistake me for being white/ i've been mistaken for hispanic/ arab even /but i've been and will remain black until the day i stop breathing/

I am apart of all my light complected people, that love thier people/ even though at times i did'nt get treated as an equal/ Huey P. ,Malcom X/ just to name a few/ who fought and died for the rights of all of you/ the Honourable farrakkan/ Dr. Cornell West/ some more pigment challenged brothers who put fourth their best/

If we can't love our own people for who we are/ then our race as a whole has'nt come too far.

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Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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