Prism

Red blood appears as blue veins,

In this brown skin,

They call black.

Gold spews,

From maroon wounds,

As Jim Crow claws my back.

White power,

Receives white pride,

While Black power,

Receives genocide.

Pale hands,

Take from native mans,

Until the Motherland’s been gentrified.

I am the silver.

I am the diamond.

I am the gold they lust.

But these colors aren’t unique to me;

They’re unique to us.

We are bold, like the hottest pink,

Royal, like purple,

The original kings and queens,

Though these words prove controversial.

I am the silver.

I am the diamond.

I am the gold they lust.

But these colors aren’t unique to me;

They’re unique to us.