
A pattern is only such if repeated
But what is repetition if not insanity?
The markings on my skin are not patterns
They are physicalities that help make me uniquely me and inspire me not be another unremarkable line in the broken patterns of “simpler” times.
The hue of my hair is mine to change, lent to me by the power(s) that be so supremely greater than you or me could ever hope to ever be.
It is not our place to judge each other; we are not to paint one another disgracefully with our eyes tinted red with resentment and hate.
It is but ours as brothers, sisters and everything in between to hold each other hand-in-hand and lift each other up and embrace the freedom we all have to create.
I dare to be blue and yellow and periwinkle.
I dare to be polkadotted and zebra print.
I dare to be orange and purple and even a sprinkle of gold.
I dare to be paisley, pastel and even a hint of gloss.
I dare to stand out on the edge of the universe and be my bold damn self.
I vow to stare myself in the mirror each morning and say, “I am the boss of my own life,” and “I have the power to be whatever color I dare to be today!”



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