Not fair.

Hurting sentiments and hurling abuses,
since childhood were taught the wrongs.
Not treating it as just a tone, what we learnt,
I know life's not fair, neither am I.

Yes, the tone of my skin is not pearl-ish,
It's rugged and tanned, has burns and scars.
Some cuts which embraces the brown,
between the midst of white dermis.

Life would be much beautiful and carefree
if the people were blind, blind enough
to peep into souls and not faces.
Blind enough, not to judge people.

People preach promises, but they care a fig.
Teaching wrong lessons about the skin.
Why can't all the colours be considered pretty ?
Why can't we stand by what we are ?

White is beautiful, but when black is the colour of the soul,
It doesn't matter, which poison you apply.
Can't we be fearless enough ?
Strong and rigid to say, to shout, to scream ?

Yes, am a proud brown with a hint of colour,
but am not less beautiful than you're,
All you do, is enjoy demise and misbehave.
If you want to judge me by my pale, you're free to leave.

All browns and blacks are beautiful,
But a white with a pretty soul is rare.
My voice has no colour, so it's totally true.
Yes, I know am not fair, but neither is life.