My father Jack is black.
My mother Skyte is white.
I ask myself, what am I?
                            An abomination.
Two races; never meant to collide.
                            An abomination.
My father, not allowed in stores.
My mother allowed anywhere such as,
Bakeries, the smell of fresh bread.
My father, on the streets,
The loud rumbling of trash cans,
The screeching meow of stray cats.
Two people, falling in love despite the wrong,
                          Made an abomination.
At least what those people tell me.
“Jason the abomination.”
I try to ignore it but it’s like,
Boats pushing against the currents,
But you only get further back.
The people, treating me like servants.
“Jason, go do this, Jason get me this.”
                            No more.
People separated just by the color of their skin.
No more racism, no more mistreatments.
You say I’m an abomination.
I say I’m proof that two opposite race can love each other.
So I ask myself again, what am I?
I am no abomination no longer.
                            I am Jason.
Jason, an evidence that this is possible.
No more riots.
No more arguments.
No more racism.
No more discrimination.
Just white and black working together.
Having mistreatments, degradation, and misplacement being placed on blacks.
No more.
Having people degrading me like I am nothing but garbage.
I am not garbage.
Sure I am a mixture of black and white.
But that was because my parents loved each other very much.
People discriminate my mother since she fell in love.
We do not decide who we fall in love.
My mother and father fell in love.
My mother, daughter of a slave owner.
My father the slave.
Very uncommon for them to fall in love.
But it is possible.
My grandfather that I do not know just because I am an abomination.
A world, so messed up.
Nothing but discrimination.
Nothing but riots.
Nothing but arguments.
Nothing but racism.
Nothing but papers having “Slaves for sell.”
Me, my mother, my father, on the run away from the world’s problem.
But we get nowhere.
No.
We go back to where we came from.
Caught and put in a cage.
My mother crying from the behind screaming our names.
It’s now my turn to be on the papers.
Picking, Scrubbing, cleaning.
Nothing but those three things every day, every hour.
In the same hour.
Not enough picking?
100 lashes.
Not clean enough?
100 more lashes.
Not enough scrubbing?
100 more lashes.
Just a child I am.
Being degraded and treated like animals.
Wishing I was a free man.
Wishing I had my mother.
Wondering when this could be over.
Wondering what my mother could be doing this instance.
Wondering how people could do this to us.
This is life.
The constant lashes for just staring at a white.
No child should go through watching his father constantly go down.
Smack! Smack!
And he’s down.
Only 98 more to go.
Other slaves telling me to just do what you are told.
This is me.
This is Jason.