Am I Not Human?

I came from my mother's womb.
I fed from her breast.
I spoke my first words
and toddled unsteadily on the earth.


I read my books.
I learned to write.
I made friends who
I thought would stay by my side forever.


I had my first crush.
I had my first heartbreak.
I've been pushed down
and told I wasn't worth the life I was given.


I have cried my tears
and opened up my skin.
I know I bleed
the same colored blood as you claim to.


I have fallen in love.
I have fallen out of it.
I have found music
whose words mean everything and nothing.


But everyday I am told
I am disgusting.
Everyday I am told
I am monster.


My tears fall down.
My blood is red.
My flesh is a shell
that holds my weary bones inside.


So tell me,
you who came from your mother's womb.
You who drank the milk
from her breast.


Explain how I am lesser
when your blood runs red,
your tears fall down,
and your bones are wrapped inside.


How am I less human
when you are the monster
comparing what we are made of
and what we hold inside?