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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #2007862
What it's like being biracial in America.
What are you?
Where are you from?
No, for real?
Are you sure?
Are you adopted?
Why is your hair so straight?
Why are you so dark?
Why don’t you look mixed?

Questions
Hit like painful stones
Constant stares
Twist up inside me

Stares
Swirl around my body
Crawl over my gut and
Into my lungs
Creeps over my throat
And fills my face
Covers my mouth
Goes into my nose

Can’t breathe

Can’t breathe

Can’t think
Can’t answer
Don’t know why
Don’t have answers

Am I a human?
Am I a freak?
Is there something wrong?
Why can’t I belong?
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