In the depths of my soul, a question lingers. How does it feel to be a problem, I wonder? W.E.B. Du Bois, his words resonate, A soul-splitting experience, a burden to contemplate. In the realm of poverty, I often reside, A struggle that accompanies me, an unwelcome guide. Studying its causes, effects, and its plight, Yet, feeling its weight in my own daily fight. In some spaces, I find solace and peace, Where I feel whole, empowered, and at ease. With certain people, understanding and kind, I embrace my true self, leaving poverty behind. But in other situations, discomfort prevails, Invisible or too visible, my spirit wails. Divided, distracted, ping-ponging between, The “me” that I am, and the “me” they’ve seen. My economic way-of-being collides, With other parts of my identity, it resides. A constant struggle, a tug-of-war, Between poverty’s grip and the person I adore. If my whole self could speak, in these spaces of strife, I would proclaim my worth, my dreams, my life. I am more than the poverty that defines, I am resilient, determined, my spirit shines. To those spaces that leave me feeling split, I say, embrace empathy, let judgment quit. See beyond the surface, the economic veil, And recognize the potential that we all entail. In the journey of “twoness,” I find my voice, Through art and expression, I make my choice. To challenge perceptions, to bridge the divide, To create a world where equality can reside. As I move through the places and spaces each day, I feel like a problem, but I won’t let it sway. For I am more than the struggles I face, I am a beacon of hope, a story to embrace. So let us unite, in our quest for change, To dismantle the systems that perpetuate pain. Through art, through words, through actions we take, We can negotiate “twoness,” for everyone’s sake.