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Shades of Discrimination

What do you see?

By Anya TalauegaPublished 5 years ago 3 min read
1

A world created in seven days,

A world created in different ways.

A world filled with bitterness, grief and pain,

A world that is stereotypical, judgmental and arcane.

The colour of nature forms a marvelous painting,

But the colour of my skin causes dreadful complaining.

The pigmentation of my skin defines who I am inside,

Judgments are quick, conclusions are created, all other things put aside.

I continually question in my mind, “When will this ever stop?

The gazes, and the criticism—It continues, it’s non-stop.”

This brown colour I see on my arms, legs and face,

Is the result of my identity, beliefs and my race.

Words that stab me in the back and cause eternal scars,

Glares that haunt me, even from afar.

A cycle on repeat, no matter where I go,

It seems I can never hide, I’m always put on show.

But how can a world, full of colour be so dark?

How do people live, breathe and embark?

How can a person turn a blind eye,

To a heartbroken, perishing, desperate cry?

A cry that mourns for equality because of their skin,

A cry that wonders if their colour is a sin.

A cry that searches for help in every heart,

A cry that fades but will never, ever depart.

But beyond the window of a brown skinned soul,

Is nothing but an empty, never-ending hole.

A gap that increases by day and by night,

That’s rather gloomy and isolated, instead of bright.

The emptiness one feels is daunting and immense,

A feeling that can be felt, but will never make sense.

Questions that arise but can never be asked,

That can never be spoken of by an outcast.

A protest of justice, equality and racism,

Things such as fascism, zionism, terrorism—

Are always said but never done,

Is this why I am overlooked by everyone?

Racism has been a continuous issue in the past,

It has been mentioned frequently on newscast.

But it seems to go in one ear and out the other,

Except for my father, brother and mother.

It’s problems like this that people tend to ignore,

But that’s what this poems about, this is what I am here for.

I have one question to ask of you, my dearest friend:

Will you take a stand with me all the way until the end?

Will you ignore the colour of skin, hair and eyes?

Will you ignore my height, my weight and size?

Will you overlook my scars, imperfections and fears?

Will you overlook my mistakes I’ve done over the years?

Instead, please try to look at my soul and my heart,

Please give me a chance to have a fresh start.

Please ignore the colour packaging I come in,

But instead, look deeper, there is more within.

I am more than just a colour, more than just a race,

I am more than just what you see in my face.

I am more than servant, outcast or maid,

Please, just know, that I am more than just a shade.

slam poetry
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