People who live in dirty houses shouldn’t throw sweets around.

You clearly weren't listening when teacher told us this in Social Science class.

Because you kept calling me ugly

You said I was supposed to be a boy

You said God made a mistake when he was creating me

You said my parents clearly don't love me because "no one wants a black child"

You kept telling the other kids to stay away from me so "my black wouldn't rub off on their skin".

You made the other kids see me as some sort of plague

You took my lunch every afternoon.

You said ugly people didn't deserve food.

Then you started saying my hair was dirty and that's why it was so brown like sand

You forgot that was the same brown they paid Beyoncé millions to wear.

You kept pulling at my hair and calling me ugly each time you saw me

You laughed at me and made jest of me

Then you started to hide my school books

Whenever I found them, they were all torn and muddied up.

But what I don't understand till this day is the crumbled look on your face

The teary look of anguish, embarassment and shock on your face when I climbed on one of the tables in the classroom and told everyone that your mother was not really your mother.

And that your sister was not really your sister.

That your mother was actually your grandmother 

And that your sister was your real mother.

And that your father was really your father except that your father was also your sister's father.

That you were an abomination and a curse.

I'll never understand.

I guess some people can't take what they dish.

Maybe you should have listened in Social Science class.