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.
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.