Our pigments are no different

I AM, Somebody. Initiating the vigorous montage of syllables sliding down our tongues. corruptedly speaking our words of passion and love of grace. Bullets of sweat trailing down the shell, we can not change I AM, Somebody. Embracing the essential individuality Being diagnosed with diversity, as if it is a crime. The non-conformality to achromatic main line, creates an endeavor in terms unlikely to make the trip In which doors await open into... the equal world. The mighty Lord created our humanity for love of this macrocosm. No one dare tell me I am somebody who: sweats for the bloodless, waits on the ‘flawless’ I AM, and I WILL, not be segregated. I am too a working man You are too God’s child. WE share the same serving of anatomy. as to WE, are no different. We are not identical For the hue of our skin separates us. Similar we are As our ticker pounds to the same rhythm. I am too God’s child, You are too a working man. No diversity lies between the pigment Because we are the same.