The Colour Of Skin

He looks in the mirror...

And curses himself everyday...

Hating life the way it is...

Just because of the colour of his skin...

Born to regret the life about to be led...

A slave of money and time...

A man who is a servant of man...

Just because of the colour of his skin...

Victim to the critical eyes,

That surround him and taunt him...

Dreaming dreams never to be fulfilled...

Just because of the colour of his skin...

Unacceptable by the society...

His existence considered a sin...

Ruled and damned by the white...

Because that's not the colour of his skin...

Working through sweat and sore...

On a leash, at the end of a whip...

Years and years of torture and servitude...

Just because of the colour of his skin...

But hope persists in his heart still...

Even as he bends against will...

That life is getting better and better...

And he accepts the colour of his skin...

The times are getting better...

That's the good thing about being human...

We improve and learn...

Not to judge a man by the colour of his skin...

Even though he struggled...

To get what's his right...

Now it's a change to latch on to...

To feel free about the colour of his skin...

He is a stroke of midnight...

Bound by stars of hope...

He believes he'll get a place in the world...

Despite the colour of his skin...