Misconception or Illusion?

If life is what we make of it
How important is our perception?
Does our vision really shape our reality?
Is our ability to internalize the external surroundings
More important than what is really set before us?
I can tell so much about a person
By what they choose to see in others.
Do they see the flaws and what makes him, human?
Or do they see the soul that merely desires to be uplifted?
I don't think we need to look at the world through rose colored lenses
and gloss over whatever negatives are present
I just feel like we put too much stake in our own masks
While mocking the ones that other's choose to adorn
in hopes of making someone just notice them.
But I feel like we often miss the beauty of the rose
Because our fear won't let us see past the thorn.
When some get caught up in a game of wanting to be loved
They are only scorned.
We don't always treat people as if they were fearfully and wonderfully made
We don't always feel like we were either
And we have to change that.
It's not truth if what they perceive is an illusion anyway
That's like believing in a magic trick-
Or politicians-
 or that certain colors make you look like you lost weight
You're still the same regardless.
A lot of the pain in this world comes from faulty understanding
And lack of critical thinking skills lead to misconceived notions
And those become reality in its own way.
But no matter how dark the dark gets
It can't change the fact
That it has only one, single, solitary  way to react
When faced with the illumination of it's only natural enemy.
See, darkness can only exist where light is not present
And enlightenment itself is a form of luminescence
Given to all so freely in abundance
Turn away from the mockers who drink violence
And subsist off of our emotions
And taste freedom on your tongue
And swallow it down into your throat
Let it permeate into your very nature and fix what once was broken

Mama Said

She said only those with skin like us can understand how to make US better
But I wonder why it is that those with skin like us is what caused us to search 
for salvation to begin with
Don't trust the white man is what we are taught
But if your own folks cause you pain then who is there left to trust?
It's not that we don't think that there's a better way than what we know
 it's just that we don't want others to see our shame. 
Men who shared my heritage and struggle
Were the ones who taught me I was worthless
Women who had the same affectations in their voices and words as I do
Were the ones who always made me feel like an outsider
We do wrong too
It doesn't matter what skin color reveals to our eyes because it will never reveal the truth of ones 
character-what's really inside
Ones actions in the heat of the moment may betray ones true passions
But even those are not indicative of who you are
Passions come and go
Like waters and waves they ebb and flow
Contradict what's in a man's head
Lack of logic leads to our most primal instinct
Passion and skin may as well be disposable as far as worthy judgments go
It's the daily intent
The cultivation of proper intention
And the release of ones understanding and purpose
Developed habits that become a person
My skin will not define me
And neither will my ethnicity
Though I see similarities in the beautiful slope of my, cultural sisters, eyes
She is not automatically one I choose to be aligned with.
The struggle of MY people
refer to those who know that they are in need of Him.
I don't want to be consumed with the passing tides
of society's current offense
Let me be alone to learn what I need to do to please the One who created
Everything that is in existence.
I will hate what He hates
Because His way don't change
Although ethics and morals according to OUR standard may differ
Truth says that He stays the same yesterday, today, and forever
I sometimes wish I could unzip my skin
Let them see what's underneath
Of all of us is not so different
Maybe the sight of our flesh beneath the cutaneous would be less offensive
and divisive
I say that tongue in cheek but whatever
If we were all blind
A kind word would still illuminate
If we were all deaf
A simple hug would speak volumes