I am white, and I see colour.

Because to not is to be blind.

Absolutely shut-eyed to the fact that somebody has seen your colour

and hated the richness so much that you find your neck 

underneath their foot,

the same foot they have used with their other

to trample on your humanity

their whole half-life 

and then used to walk off lightly- 

no need to run 

because who do they need to run from?

I see your colour, and mine 

and how mine because it is the colour of porcelain grants me protection and validity and all lives matter they moan,

until it’s my armour against your life laid bare 

and my porcelain acts as titanium, 

no-one even dares but yours invites bullets, feet, fists, and anger

rabid fury from animals 

who’s lies should have been caged long ago.

I am white, and I see colour. 

And I see how you see red and I do too,

but mine burns with shame whereas yours is ripe and ready and won’t be diluted anymore

because the last of the water has been used up

hydrating a killer on the ground 

- he was bullied at school, he was mentally ill,

he flipped, who can blame him, 

the American dream was just too hard to uphold.

I see your colour, and I see mine, 

and we both see 

why the view needs to change.