Shot from the stem
Yet my yearns to be accepted
Echo and bounce back unheard
Was it my colour
Was it my dark patches
My beautiful recognition of him
Written all over
My face
Unable to erase the memory
Livin and ever present
So quick to judge
So quick to fault me
Slow enough to acknowledge my accomplishments
Marked and stamped with the price of 'not good enough'
Refuse to bow down to that
Resist the ever growing
distinct
Bitterness and issues
U profess on to me
Gave up almost half of me
Almost wasn't good enough
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem