A curse calling to hurt,
A knife yelling for blood,
A white color in the middle of black,
I am different, and I am not pleased
I lack the characteristics of being human
I have no eyes, I have no firm mind
I have no color, I have it all behind
I am different, should I be proud
Rated as a second specie of human kind
My life is far better than a screen play to those who watch
I will find my final moments to be more pleasing than my life, I hold no grudge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Raynolds, such a heartfelt poem👍👍👍