What Is There To Lose by Anaya Kaul (12, Virginia)

What is there to lose, 
when you are behind bars 
even when innocence is all you feel, 
your soul ripping apart, 
your heart shattering 
to shards of glass, bleeding 
the nerves in your brain. You beg 
for forgiveness, wait for their answer, ​

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wait to see if they can mold the shattered 
pieces of glass together, put your broken soul 
into one. But the answer is 
NO! No! No. 

What is there to lose, 
when you are different 
from the rest, the lightest 
of the brown yet separate 
from the pale-skinned People. 
Your parents work two jobs, 
maybe more, they receive pay 
less than anything you could ever wish for. 
You gaze at them, 
seeing them shower in over a million gold coins,
the words wealthy, 
superior 
written in permanent ink 
all over. 

What is there to lose, 
When you stand proudly, 
Dress formally, like one of them 
and stride with pride, 
Placing your ballot, inside, 
Feeling confident they will accept it this time,
Them proud, wealthy, superior People. 
But they simply count your vote 
As none, nothing, pathetic.
What is there to lose, 
when others around you 
don’t dare to look at you 
with pride, treat you like a citizen,
Count your vote, see your innocence,
only see through you. The words written
across your face in permanent ink:
minority, poor, pathetic, just 
waiting 
to be seen 
as something more.