The chanting breeze, whispers melodically
The rays of sunshine tickle my skin with warmth.
My squeals of delight fill the fresh green
There is so much to explore!
So little time! The sights, sounds, smells!
Every breath, an explosive burst of life,
Bubbles into a tender embrace
My gleaming eyes, filled with naivety.
Everything is a wonder, everything new.
I want to touch it all, taste every morsel, smell every fragrance.

             I see them. Constantly. Every day and every night.
             Those hollow judgmental eyes,
             Boring into me like merciless nails
             With every sharp pain, hammering bluntly
             Into my mind, flesh and bone. Without hesitance,
             Scrutinizing all my inner and all my outer.
             Lingering beyond reality, beyond dreams
             Penetrating coldly through the layers of faith,
             The walls of truth, the fences of justice.
             I do not understand this. What have I done?

There is beauty in this world,
My mother reminds me. Over and over.
Too constantly, that I start disbelieving her.
She too begins disbelieving. Anyone would.
It is because of them. The ones with those eyes.
Their thirst, quenched by the acidic juice
Of bitterness, satisfies their hateful desires.
Dripping sinfully down their chin,
Burning the lips, tongues and taste buds
Of those of different colours.

             I do not know who they are. What they are.
             But I do hear their twisted nasty mouths at work,
             Flickering breathlessly, impatiently,
             As stinging aggression escapes these cavities.
             The lies, green, long and winding. Sprinkled with thorns,
             Fuelled with apprehension, strangle and puncture my throat.
             I do see their superior glances, darting furtively,
             Their blind hatred. Pressing hard, so hard upon myself.
             At first, it is a mere distraction at the back of my mind.
             But it worsens. Worsens, to a relentless torturous stabbing.

In this world which I inhibit, I am a minority.
Merely a speck of pathetic dirt among the cleanliness
I am worthless, powerless, voiceless.
I must be obedient. I must smile. I must listen.
Listen to all those who believe they are better than me,
Those who aren’t hidden behind a colour.
Even though I am torn. Torn into a hysterical silence.
If I refuse to play my part in society’s play
Or even dare to upstage the production
Then I will suffer. More so then ever.

             I feel my life being sucked viciously,
             As my body becomes limp, gasping desperately
             To belong, to be accepted and to live
             The hate disguised as fear, operates like a disease.
             Hacking away at the turmoil, wreaking havoc
             Ripping away at the depths of my soul.
             Attacking the centre of my nervous system,
             Is a dark shivering stranger, uttering death,
             Labeling me, as though I am contaminated or evil
             These fabrications are the true cloaks of evil

I am tired. So tired of pretending that nothing is wrong.
This fury all around me. Swallowing me
Shadowing my every move, my every breath
Which flicker in the uneasy darkness of my mind.
I want to protect my children from this.
I fear it is growing. Mutating. Now squirming inside me.
Maybe it is true. Does colour truly equate worth?
Why else is there so much hatred?
I must tell them that everything is fine
Yet how am I to lie to them? Tell them the world is secure?

             Rejection hurts tremendously, yet isolation aches
             It aches like a throbbing wound, incapable of healing
             Bleeding, screaming, howling out for help,
             But no one can hear it or see the red. Only I can.
             The numbing truth of it all
             Engulfing me, twisting me, suffocating me.
             As the hate consumes those eyes,
             The hate consumes me,
             Until I am no more. I am nothing.
             Nothing.

I am infected. It has taken control of me
These hands, these feet, this face- they are not mine
How is it possible to own such filthy impure things?
I must wash them. Wash away the dirt.
I wash them over and over. I wash away my dignity.
I scrub them so awfully hard. And peel
Peel away the flecking paint, housed of disgrace
With all my tears, fears and agony.
Until they are stone raw, until there is no colour left.
Until I can feel no more.

             This heavy burden upon my shoulders
             Crushes the trapped silk cocoon entwined with hope,
             The defeated remains, embrace the shade of shame.
             I am not a human. Not a living creature. Not a woman.
             But a colour. Only a disgusting colour.
             My femininity, nothing more than a device
             A device to produce more of the shamed ones.
             The hidden humiliation, the salty streams
             Cascade down my burning ugly face.
             I must hide my distortion from others. Hide from those eyes.

What kind of repulsive beasts are we?
Surely this does not happen in the animal world.
Are we more animalistic than animals themselves?
We are worse. So much worse than them.
Humans are the true bloodthirsty vultures. Pecking each other
Scratching, gnawing, roaring, biting and hissing,
Poisoning the purity of innocence, as it drips away.
Entangled in a jungle of lies and horror
We will eventually be caught in our own making,
In our own traps of terror.

             Those eyes are faceless and soulless.
             The steely glint of ignorance has no face, nor deserves one
             The fear and anguish which these mirrors evoke
             Are much too powerful for such selfish beings to manipulate.
             It claws away at every aspect of life
             Eventuating into a purposeless existence of loathing.
             The curtain of ignorance covering those eyes,
             Blind them. Corrupt them. Kill them.
             From seeing the light, shining in the horizon above
             Now transformed into a callous burning glare.

The emptiness of intolerance
Frays away at the quilted patchwork
Tugging at the thread, unraveling the framework,
Dividing, and tearing the bonds, the stitches of unity.
It has created the too often common echoes of gun shots
The lethal metal, tinkering the streets.
The sounds of explosions haunting the valleys
As civilizations are shattered and destroyed.
The cries of fear, confusion and loss. Resonating.
People dying, people struggling, people hating.

             In a world where colour dictates
             Dread dwells and lurks, transcending into all
             Overshadowing the glimmer of truth.
             Behind the blanket of darkness, beyond the gloom
             Hope alone is budding unpretentiously.
             Like a lotus, trapped under the thick dirty mire
             Which society generates. Feeds upon. Devours.
             Breaking free from this weight, erupting through the mud,
             It stands tall against its desolate environment.
             Maybe one day, I will be this flower of hope.