The Colour of My Skin

First I feel the anger, Rise up from deep within, Why aren't I treated fairly? It's just the colour of my skin. My anger soon subsides, And I begin to cry, I know I'm treated different, But I just don't know why. The tears gradually slow, And I wipe them away, My smile doesn't look real, But no one cares anyway. I want to ask the question, But my mum and dad aren't home, They always have to work, So I ponder it alone. At school everyone stares, As I walk by in the hall, They don't want me to see them, But I notice them all. I just don't understand, I'm a person just like them, I might not look the same, But does anyone in the end?