It’s an odd predicament
To be half way between two races,
It’s like having your soul
Split between two places.
In my heart I am one thing,
In my mind I am another.
My soul torn between the people
Of my father and my mother.
I was raised in a white world,
Though my skin is sun kissed black.
Not truly accepted by either group,
My heritage always under attack.
I don’t know where I belong:
How do I define my identity?
Perhaps the key is to evolve,
To become my own separate entity.
– © J. E. Fitzgerald –