Black Or WhiteSprayed across my white wall was the blood of the boy they killed, hanging in shiny goblets threatening to break away and drop. Drop all over the red carpet in stabbing never ending rivers. It was ink. It touched my toe, just a fraction of a nail and I saw it was black. Mixed with the tears of the mother who won't, who can't stop crying at the son who smiled and laughed and never hurt anybody. Who would cry when he saw a puppy in pain. The black ink was mixed with the sweat of the father, dripping in oceans of rivers, as he worked hard to enter the dollar into his son's education. But the only dollar he entered was paying the grave digger to dig his child's last haven. A proper goodbye to a death nobody gives a shit about.
And why should they? One less nigga in the world, that's what'll come out of their mouths, tongues lolling dangerously in filaments of lies and ignorance. The world is black, blacker than ever. The sky is shining. It is more lighter than the black inkiness they have in their hearts. No one ain't black or white. Deep down inside they're all black and they know it. They lie about it 'cuz they don't wanna be black, just a nigger in a soulless world.
I wish, I just wish I could scrape off everyone's skins and replace ourselves with what makes us humans. Bones and muscles. Nerves and Arteries. The blood rushing at the speed of sound. No one can argue at the colour of each other's blood. We're all red.
These skins, I'll burn 'em, destroy them, delete them. After all, we don't really need them to cover up our feelings. We ourselves cover them up, loading them onto a train leaving for Timbuktu in 15 minutes flat.
Those skins, I can hear them calling. No Black. No White. Just human.
Poetry by Nabeela Altaf
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Written on 2014-02-07 at 08:33
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