The color of my skin
Is bleeding through again
The heritage of Native American
And Irish mixed together
My genetics the congruent tether
I am that I am
That’s just the way I am
Born into this world of diversity
To be the only me I can be
I love the color of my skin
What a lovely meat suit to be in
Dark in the summer and light in the winter
Somewhere in between I find my center
Of gravity
A place for me
And all to see
The joy of color
Made by a father and mother
I was destined for a world made free
A halfbreed
Made from two different seeds
Hated by either side of the fence
For I didn’t fit on either side of the fence
A farmers tan I easily receive
Dark arms till I pull up my sleeves
A multitude of color makes up me
In this color spectrum I am free
About the Creator
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More stories from William Moore and writers in Poets and other communities.
Killing him slowly
There’s an intruder in my house again. He stumbles through the door, wet carrier bags in hand. He’s bought me offerings. I show my appreciation, letting him caress my beautiful body. He wants to touch me. I rub myself against his legs. He sighs, dropping the bags. He can’t resist touching me. Running his hand slowly down my spine, I arch my back towards his caress, let out a low purr. It’s what we both need.
By N J Delmasabout 23 hours ago in Horror
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