Straight skinny spaghetti and meatballs, the typical meal
Why do people always make such a big deal?,
It’s true that I have darker skin with almost black hair
Not all Italians look like this, to be fair
I’m not one of those crazy Italians with the gelled spiked hair
Yelling, dancing and fist pumping wildly in the air
I don’t talk with my hands, although its true, many do
And I don’t belong to the Mafia, “Do I amuse you?”
You think you know me based on my look,
But I, unlike some, cannot be read like an open book
Every Italian is different, none are the same
Stereotyping us is really just lame
All ethnicities are good in their unique own way
That’s all this poem is really trying to say