by Patrice Morgan

Would you rather I bleach my skin
Straighten my hair
And pretend to blend
Contacts and weaves
Wont change what's within
High cheek bones 
Full lips
Defined buttocks
Are all implants that you get
Inferior we are
And superior you are
The skin you're in
Is nothing greater
Only a shade thin
Our impurities 
Amazing to you 
in a sense
But still considered
Tanning Salons
and Beach outings
a shade darker
who's trying to blend
After death
our color remains
but yours change
Colored maybe
But that's our name

Colored by Patrice Morgan

© Copyright 2015. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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