Brother, you discredit everything I say, him think so lowly of me. You dismiss me as a negro with not much to say nor offer yet there I see you, a sorry site in a cradle of white. Blindly you are led to believe you’re one of them, an acceptable one amongst them, ignorantly you see me as a threat, you are sunken in whiteness, on full display for Becky and her friends to see you, use you and when the time comes, dispose you. So whilst I may have little, I have me, me who will not crumble at the site of a white man, me who will not open my palms to receive scraps from a white woman, me who will not kneel down to white dreams. Oh, you say I’m lazy and I should be slaving myself away, yet what do you have that I wish to have? Better toys, better suits, better friends? I beg you not! They think of you so low because what you are to them is not what you are and they know it! And you know it! So there you lay in your white ray of light, thinking you have one above on me, yet anxiety paralyses you, success hurts your back, fear pumps your muscles, I envied you once, then I tasted what you had and spat it out in a hurry. Count me out, I do not wish it no mo, keep it, for I will be ready to receive you when you get up outa there. Brother, don’t look me up and down, don’t you know I am the real deal in this sarong. Unlike you brother, I am not on full display for them, to them you are a site of wonder, a commodity to be consumed, to be adorned, valued till expire comes. Why do you allow yourself to be scrunched up, limited, half missing, half smiling? Can’t you see you’re not whole, do you not wish to be whole, all ears, all eyes, all legs all body, all mind. Yet I see half missing, whites see it as beauty, I see it as a tragedy, a sorry site, preciously lost.