There once was a glassblower who lived by the sea. In the daring years of his youth, the glassblower would pull all kinds of strange and wonderful shapes from out of colored glass. He blew neon spires ... [+]
I’m a million persons.
I am Black.
It is the color of my roots,
my unknown family of the past.
It is the color my skin is portrayed to be,
but not the color of my heart.
The blacker the berry,
the sweeter the juice?
Well, I must be half sweet and half sour,
because I’m not BLACK,
I am a million persons.
I’m a million persons.
I am Brown.
The color of my skin is brown.
My eyes are brown.
Earth is brown.
I love Brown,
I am a million persons.
I’m a million persons.
I am Chinese.
I have Chinese blood in me.
I have Chinese eyes, they’re cute.
I am a million persons
I’m a million persons.
I am Irish.
I am Native American.
I am green and red.
I have rainbow-colored roots.
I am a million persons.
I ‘m a million persons.
I am African,
filled with rhythm and knowledge.
I am American, filled with
selfishness and greed.
I am a million persons.
I’m a million persons.
I am ME.
I am a million persons.