My Skin
I don’t know how to live in the skin I’m in.
The skin I was taught was worn by those who sin.
I was later educated about my true origin.
I feel pride but I’m painfully aware of the position I’m in.
I talked “so white” all my life and never appeared too tough.
Now I say black and people scream “ok nigga enough is enough”
I feel like as I learn it’s my job to teach my brothers.
But they are distracted by the bait of the others.
I feel I’m overanalyzing and that I annoy people by thinking too deep.
But when I’m quiet I feel like the only person who could inspire them is me.
I want to be outspoken and lead the masses but I still struggle to pass my classes.
I want to get rich and give back to the kids but I spend each check as though the check was big.
I want to be revolutionary because I’m so tired of being oppressed.
But once I get a job I fear I’ll be like the rest.
I fear the fire I posses will die with my youth.
I fear I’ll become the man who plays it safe and sugar coats the truth.
If I focus on just me, how am I helping my people progress?
If I focus on a cause, I may end up under arrest.
I can’t tell everybody I know that sellin’ ain’t cool,
cause what if I was them and my family needed food?
I’ve had so much disappointment I’m afraid to pursue a wife.
I’m so scared I’ll mess up and ruin both of our lives.
I know my heart is big and there’s so much love within.
But I’d be lying if I said I was a stranger to sin.
I don’t know how to move in this skin I’m in.
Tryna score in a game they don’t want me to win.
Tryna gain in areas my family usually lacks,
Tryna be a good example of what it is to be black.
C. Swank
