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.
