What is this burden of color succumbing our foundations?
What is this blindness only hatred brings?
What is this bullshit about skin?
Overlooking what’s within.
Demons from pale underbellies,
Where even darkness irks to tread.
Riddled with their own dread.
The dread of not being good enough,
Because they are not.
The dread of withstanding what’s hot,
Because they cannot.
The dread of envy at perseverance,
Because they wish they could.
Pick their own cotton with the sun bearing down.