They yanked at my curly hair and made fun of my eyes.
And with every tear that fell off my face, the world felt less like mine.
I thought ‘you can do anything’ was just a stupid lie.
Because I knew the chains of prejudice would never let me fly.
Because what I looked like
Became who I was.
And I would never make anyone smile
Or feel.
I’d never make anyone feel.
No-one would ever feel for me.
The outsider.
The ugly, curly haired outsider;
My shoe laces always untied.
Hoping that someone would notice and tell me
So I could know what conversation felt liked.
I had so many scrapes on my knees.
No-one ever told me.
By Monica Kakembo, Uganda
Contento Times 