I can't help who I am.
I am a monster fighting in vain.
I am a baby crying for its mama.
I am beaten, thrown down just because my skin is a shade darker.
I am laughed at.
I am a boy who is sneered at for looking like a girl.
I am free.
I am someone.
I am part of something.
I am the girl who sits by herself in the lonely corner of the cafeteria.
I am not perfect.
I am who I am.
