What Does It All Mean? Poem by Deshawn Johnson

My skin tone
is my own
It is not for you to decide
for why I am alive.

My hair
is not for you to compare or to stare.
It is what grows in my roots.
You are not one to choose.

My accent
is not for what you meant.
It is my microphone
so leave it alone.

My fashion
has no need for you laughin'.
It is how I feel
so you can just deal.

My face
is not of your place.
It is how I was created
so don't degrade it.

My body structure
is not for you to rupture.
It fits me comfortably.
So save your folly.

My way of thinking
has no room for your speaking.
I have my morals.
So you can rest on your laurels.
.