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Color Amongst A Race


Light skin is the right skin,
So they tell me.
The color of sun rays, 
And golden sand, 
A twinkle that glistens,
Off smooth, flattened horizons.
Admired by darkened glares,
Of jealousy and hate,
What makes complexion, 
A means of perfection? 
We know right from wrong,
But how can flesh be incorrect? 
Light bright, sunshine, off white
Just to name a few.
Constantly being reminded,
I'm not the right color.
But does perfection have a color?
Or even a pigment? 
Does it lay within the crevices of,
Each letter, resting helplessly
Between the black curves?
Staring back at me,
Constantly being reminded,
I'm not good enough. 
Forcing me to hide within the shade,
Of my people, trying to find 
Perfection within my race.
Kiss my lips and melt away,
These 50 shades of grey, 
Laying behind my colored skin,
Too light for words.
And the only word that can describe, 
My skin is imperfection, 
I M Perfection..
 
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