The colors that fill my eyes are pure.
I talk to my friends, but we disagree.
In times of conflict, I hold my tongue.
Rain falls around us and the answers wash away.
I haven’t found anyone to take my side.
It is impossible that I am wrong.
I have written my argument in bold letters.
To the people that hate me,
I scorn your derision and judgment.
The colors in my heart will never fade.
W. Wayne B.
Kindle poetry chapbook: Journey Through a Garden
Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb
© 2014 W. Wayne B.
Original image: 52 Weeks: A Little Story About Racism, Park Grass And That Word That My Grandparents Were Probably Called Everyday……. By Carmen Lucas [Image license]
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