Pigmentation


My skin is not your color
so why should I matter?
My heart pumps the same blood
but why should I matter?
My hands--
made from the same bone marrow,
care for the bodies that sprouted from my womb
just as you do,
but why should that matter?

My worth is defined by the pigment of my body.
My hopes slammed down by the restrictions you have caused me.
Any luck of gaining respect was lost three billion generations back,
Because your shade is white,
And my shade is black.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem