What Do You See When You See Me?

What do you see when you see me?
My clothes, my hair, or poverty?

Do you see bars before my face?
Or merely see me out of place?
With my existence erased-wiped completely from this race?

Don't judge me by the way I dress--my style, my hair shouldn't cause you duress.

These things are just the outer wear, but what's inside--Ah there's treasure there--
To be brought forth, polished and refined.
To be given a chance to sparkle and shine.

My purpose here is like the rest.
To constantly learn--strive to be the best.
The labels that you tie to me may stifle, stunt my growth, my desire to achieve.
But will never stop my drive to believe in who I am and what I can conceive.

Now what do you see when you see me?

Judge not or be judged said the Almighty He.

Look in my eyes, when you see me.
They are windows to the soul, but you must be willing, be ready and accept me beyond the color of my skin.