Colour Poem by Cake Ben

When I think of Colour,
What happily comes to mind,
Is a box of new crayons,
And happiness of a special kind.

Colour meant playing,
Colour meant fun,
Colour meant drawing,
To keep us out of the sun.

When we were taught, 'as black as night',
It simply meant, the night is dark.
Today you would be labelled Racist,
When did Colour make people Egomaniac.

What has happened to the joy that colour brought?
Where is the fun that we had sort?
Why have young minds been poisoned such?
Why, Oh! Why has colour changed so much?

Weren't we put on Earth,
So we could love each other,
To lend a helping hand,
And be somebody's brother.

Why instead of finding, reasons to love,
We resort to ways of, How to hate.
Making God distraught, when he looks down from above,
We NEED to change this man-made ugly fate.