The Pyle Inside

“I Am Inequality”
by Sunanda Basu

I am the skin-color labeled Crayola, battered and blank.
I am the hateful stares at your intertwined hands.
I am the name-calling at your bulging belly.
I am the sharp whispers in your ear, tearing your confidence apart.
I am the taunting shrieks in the hall, stomping on the pieces.
I am the one word that changes everything.
I am the patronizing smile that knows something you don’t.
I am the 21% you don’t have.
I am the “No”.
I am the “Yes”.
I am the whispers; all the whispers.
I am the fingers pressed to your skin and woven through your hair.
I am the gaping stares at your sobbing figure.
I am the judging glares at your true loves.
I am the hate you receive for stating your opinion.
I am the smirking faces, finding humor in your naivety.
I am the anger you feel when you realize this.
I am the determination you feel when you decide you don’t deserve this.
I am the hopelessness you feel when no one stands by you.
I am the realization that they don’t understand.
I am the sinking feeling in your heart when you realize that your cause is a hopeless one.
I am the slinking back into misery, because equality will have to wait.