It is a thing of beauty to uphold the pride like a pack of lions,
It is a crime to be praised for sharing the same amount of might.
The perception of the ugliness of the melanin is the crime we commit.
Taunted by history but still hopeful for our brightest future.
Holding on to the truth is the only gift we weren’t given,
Although exacted upon the very lies meddled in-between
Lost purpose and a sense of belonging
Like a spider entangled in its own web.
Looking up to the sky in the cold of the night,
At the stars aligned like the mirage of thoughts that seem to appear.
Wondering if it is better to be sun kissed or draped in full glamour.
However it suits the gaze of the stars that shine so bright in the sky.