The way I see everything
The way I’ve always seen everything
Every feeling
Every thought
Every act
Every Individual
Is coloured by a colour
White, black or red


Me? Me!
I’ve always seen myself as the colour Blue
Simple, soft, sometimes sad but simple
I am a simple novel
Not too many characters
Just a lot of words
As telling simple’s story sometimes is just as complex as complex’s
All people see are the countless words
Never really reading, never really understanding
But still pass their unwholesome judgment
He’s weird, doesn’t fit in, not particularly normal
They say about a book they never read
Leaving me blue in the face
Ice cold, never again willing to have a book reading


Life and death
White and black
Two brothers who would never be friends
Both trying to please the creator
I’ve seen them both
Just as I popped out of mother
Still in the amniotic sac
Struggling to get the first breath
The nurse screaming “kìléléyì?” (What is this?) in gross incompetence
There they stand
White and black
Each beckoning
Life saying, white is safe and entertaining . Come to safety
Death saying, black is beautiful, just look at the melanin popping
White Or black?
I chose
They both lied


I’ve seen red here
In spurts
On the roads
In the eyes of men
I’ve seen yellow in their smiles
Purple in their royalty
Green in their sickness
Pink in their girls
Blue in their boys
Grey in their confusion
I’ve seen red
In the eyes of a “gentleman”
whose car was hit by a tricycle
The “gentleman” whipped out his belt in one swift motion
In his white shirt ignoring the brown around him and the brown inside him
Making me doubt his “gentlemanliness”
I’ve seen red in death
When a man was crushed
I saw red in the tears
I saw red at a funeral

I’ve seen yellow at a funeral
I’ve seen smiles at a funeral
They lied
It isn’t totally safe here
And melanin isn’t always popping there
See Why I’ve battled with trust?
When I was welcomed into the world with lies.


I’ve been offered free rides in heart shaped red cars with beautiful women
But growing up in the Green White and Green Country
Coupled with my trust deficiency
I always see the roadblocks with men of the police
Waiting for their 50 at every stop
And I wonder if I’d not be okay to take this ride alone for a while to check out the terrain


I’ve seen hearts broken
Burnt by the orange of the fiery love they had
I’ve seen fear
In it’s reddish brown eyes
I’ve seen joy
In the wine of a new born

This place is colourful
Some would look distasteful
Some would be heartwarming
Some would take your breath away
And some would suck the breath out of you.


Only until you realise that you are the painter
And you hold the brush
And the canvas is yours
Telling your story in the colours you choose
The colours which make you who you truly.


Me?… Me!
My canvas is filled with every colour I know
The Red of death, love and anger
The Yellow of smiles and happiness
The Blue for the cold, sad and misunderstood
The Brown that I am
The Melanin that pops
The Purple I love
My Canvas is A Canvas of Many Colours

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