Colorless

Lost all hope in my colors,

the red bleed blue because of oxygen,

the green is just gas because of hypothesis,

the sky is blue because of apoptosis,

the white is supreme because of richness,

the black is dirt because of its imagery.

Painted in the narrative of the narrated sun,

the same color of orange and yellow mixed with the sons of Hera.

We lean over the victory of the mythological history,

created in the blacksmith of trickery

plagued in thought a decoded mystery

yet the masters will is exactly what you're given me.

Divided and conquered by European wars,

fighting a crime to live a life covered in sores,

a Constantine over noble scriptures,

the Romans roaming through emboded tinctures.

Yet were soaked as exploded niggers,

the Native national of encoded figures,

the land bled from a reworded picture.

Yet the color of my skin grants me limits,

the white man I must enslave for just to make a living,

and my black men get to take a way from being fathers to children,

while my black lives die because of their image.

As we rebuke the day of revocation we find ourselves in a colorless field,

the same colors we see is the grey we sense.

The matters of our mental comes from the motherhood we never understood,

or didn't exist,

inherited the sin of them

because the colored curse of Ham.

I mean this is what the rich ones said,

because we refuse to understand that my black was once beautiful,

it was bold and uplifted with courage it lead

tribes across rivers and wrote many pages.

My black was once amazing until it became,

a freelancer to the man of a system,

when men stopped being men because of the Woodrow Wilson’s

I mean I have lost all faith in my colors.

The rainbow is justified with brown,

yellows,

purples

and greens,

Just to identify with he, she, they, and me,

I have lost faith in my colors because of colored folks,

Still fighting for equal rights, but the world is woke!