My personal reflection on the poem 'Under My Skin' by brandi - to the teachers
To the teachers, assassins of my creativity- I was never what you wanted, I was not one to conform to the rules and boundaries of the square in which you imprison yourselves. I was no ordinary child, I am what is known as an indigo child, but thanks to your continued oppression of my soul, I find myself as colourless as you.
-This is no game, of words that cut again and again -
Now …
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…to see, to witness, to finally acknowledge and admire.
My soul cries for its existence. I AM ME! I DO EXIST! See me for the fine spirit that I am. My spirit flows from my veins, deep, coloured, for all you to see. But you cannot judge me anymore, because this is mine, its not yours, and it never will be.
--Some call this gouged graffiti cruel, but I have learned these words at school--
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