I was born in a world where opinions mattered.
I’m at fault for my skin, I’m not sure why that is. I’ve been judged and subjected to live as a stereotype. Not just for my kind but for every kind. Somehow, we’ve made ourselves think that subjective categorizing is right.

I was born in a world where everyone thinks he’s better than everybody else.
(Or perhaps, not enough.) I’m at fault for the world I was born into, I’m not sure why this is. I didn’t choose to live in it. Why does it matter where I stand or whether I'm above or beneath the person beside me? Why do I feel the need to compare myself to anyone?

I was born in a world with efficient mouths and inefficient eyes.
No one’s an exception. Everyone’s just the same. We’re unique but in unique ways. Still, somehow we’re no different than our neighbors. Make up your mind. We can be strong and we can go far but we see only what is in front of us, on the outside; we do not have x-ray vision; we don’t remember to look up or down; we don’t remember than anyone or anything could possibly be behind us.

I was born in a world where oppression lived just to hold public evolution back.
I’m at fault for my ancestors’ sin. I don’t see why that is; I didn’t choose my kin.
I’m at fault for the way he lived, the things she did, the words they said. Yet I have not lived like he, done as she, talked as they. Why can’t anyone see that I only want to be me?