Mutant?

My skin is
a conference of
yellow, black, white and
red patches,
so tell me,
how can I be racist?

My face is
a full map of nations
and hideous cities,
thickened into flesh by
rude fires,
and you wonder how I
know my geography.

My body is thinly stretched
and tells graphic stories of
war catastrophe,
and you call me mad
for believing in mutants...
mutants like me.