The Other Person

I do not wish to be classified by my aesthetics

I do not wish to be identified by my genetics

My skin color, my hair texture

The curves on my Hipline, the depths of my waistline

I do not wish to be labeled by the place of my origin

Or rejected by the nature of my religion

I do not wish to be named or defamed

For whatever you think of me, that isn’t who I really am,

I am not what you see, I am what is in

My character, my spice, my loyalty, my lies

Yet, and yet

I sit in a crowd and I’m immediately spotted out

I’m not the brightest and yet I illuminate because among white lambs, the dark wolf shines.

Yet and yet

I enter into a cab and death glares are thrown at me,

“Madam shift na”

if it were easy I’d fold all this skin inside of me

Yet and yet

“I like girls who are taller”

but I can’t walk on heels

“I like girls who take care of their self”

but I bought all this makeup

“I like girls who dressed good”

but I want to be comfortable

“I like girls who are decent”

but I bought all these shorts

‘Hair down!, hair up!, eat more!, slim up!, speak up!, shut up!

I am the man, can’t you be more sharp?, you are too wise for your own good,

be more like “bola”, be more like “Esther”, be more like my “ex”, be more like a “girl”‘

I do not wish to accept that the degree of my acceptance of myself and of your value in me will be placed on things I have no control of.

Isn’t there a me you wish to see underneath all this walls you erected for me?

Isn’t there a world where only shadows are, where light and dark become one?

I do not wish to be immaterial and immature, but nature has made me so sure that I can’t be anything but what I was from the time I was born

I can’t be black, I can’t be white, I can’t be human, I can’t be animal,

I can at least be alive, I can at least look in the mirror and lie

I can at least pretend not to cry whenever you put me down with your vile

I can at least try to love myself, am I not permitted that much?

Or am I only to live as your silicone doll?.

If I’m to live up to your standards, you’re going to have to build really high rocks for me to climb on

Don’t force on me the opinions and relegate me to making them happen.

If I can’t control what makes you despise or desire me, can I at least control what makes me desire me?