“Negative” I wonder outloud to a foreign crowd of my forgotten brethren
They speak some vows and turn my way
Noticing the privilege I proclaim
The twist of my hips
The turn of my lips
The graceless way I speak out of turn
I know that I am not one of them
With my too brown skin and my too black hair
Kinked up readily to face the wind
“Negative” I proclaim with a sneer
For deep down inside
I know that I am not welcomed here
But I hide it with a haughty stance
One hand on my lip and the other on my chest
My blood was never going to be enough
My twisted tongue can’t speak those vows
Spoken outloud by a foreign crowd
But I am going to go on pretending
That my black will matter here