Mocked I was for my colour,
My race and my hair texture.
My diction was made fun of,
Making me feel small in front of the world.
I withdrew into self,
Became quieter to the core.
Introspection helped a lot,
As I realized, I wasn’t at fault.
I channelized my feelings,
Both happiness and anguish,
Onto my fingers that carved magic,
On anything that came its way.
My sculptures were sought after,
From people all around the world.
The same people who mocked me once,
Now, waited in line to catch a glimpse.
I paused to ponder, stopped and laughed to myself.
The world is indeed a confused place,
As once I was chased away,
And now I am sought after.