Something that we all enjoy to look at when it comes to an object

but its one of the things that separates us as a human race,

Human Race. The only race that should matter.



The thing we use to make things beautiful.

Whether its fashion, or a painting.

Its used to make things beautiful.

So why am I not considered beautiful?

Why am I a motion, or a way to be

instead of a person thats apart of a race.

Human Race



On my skin.

Cut my skin open

As if you havent already

You can see the blood flow through my veins

Now cut yourself and see that our blood is all the same

Yet you hate me cause I'm wrapped in different wrapping

Either way we're all presents

Just living in the present

Sitting together under the same tree.




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