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Dirty Shoelaces

Today I hung myself with a dirty shoelace and I thought I knew why. 

I thought it was for all the times you choked me.  I thought it was for all the times you poked me.

I thought it was for all the times you called me a nigger, a chink, a wetback.

I thought it was for all the times you kicked me.  I thought it was for all the times you spit upon me. 

I thought it was because you pulled my hair.  I thought it was because I always smelled like bacon. 

I thought it was because I always ate free lunch.  I thought it was because my nose was flat and wide.

I thought it was because I was a little too black.  I thought it was because I was Michael Jackson black.

I thought it was because I wasn’t tan enough.  I thought it was because I spoke differently.

I thought it was because I had long hair. I thought it was because you couldn’t pronounce my name.

I thought it was because I was short.  I thought it was because I was fat.

I thought it was because my hair wasn’t straight enough.

 I thought it was because my lips were too big.

I thought it was because my eyes weren’t round enough.  

I thought it was because I wasn’t pretty enough.

I thought it was because I existed.

 I now realize I’m a voice for the muted.  I’m a dream for the King.  I’m a hope for the hopeless. 

Will you promise me to rid the world of dirty shoelaces? 

Would you testify under oath?

On your mother’s grave?

A pinky promise?

                Thanks.