Black is Not My Skin

Black is not my skin
but it is my hair
So though Black isn’t me, it
carries on my mind

I will not choose between
both sides of my hand
Because once cut it bleeds, blood
red just the same

When They pin and pit us
against one another
I stand with both feet; an
aimless kick do falter

Made with cosmic stardust
we flow in speckles
May our voices grow
regardless of perils

— Winson Shuen

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