Prism

What do I know?

I can't relate.

I'm flowing tresses of strawberry blonde in alabaster skin

With emerald eyes and a frame not so thin.

Privilege, turns out, comes in my shade.

And I've just noticed how much it's weighed.

Blue lights flash and pass me by.

It's a grim realization that I cannot deny.

No, I've done no wrong and that's not the case.

But it'd a bit different if not for my race.

Because ebony tones don't mix well with blue.

Red flags wave and hatred bleeds through.

The brutality and unrest seems to never cease.

And until there's justice, there will be no peace.

Maybe one day, transparency can make it right.

You see, prisms are clear and they refract the light.

It starts out as one color when it shines through,

And comes out as a rainbow instead of one hue.

Colors can blend and colors will smear,

But not a one should be something to fear.

There's a plethora of shades that can make up a face,

And every one is of the human race.