All skin, bone, and flesh,
protect my fragile innermost.
But that is deception at its norm.
What color does the truth hold?
Black
on the whitest of white
Words
are the frame and flesh I bear and
the tan colored shell I wear
For my heart is not my sleeve
but is
The subject-verb construction
That I am.
My imaginative power dictates what I become.
I am the letters that beautify and tattoo
the absent colored paper with
My ideas and emotions.
The black that paint, define, and shape me
are not to be taken lightly.
I am bold and defined
as the powerful nighttime color.
A mirror no longer knows the qualities I hold;
For it is the mere reflection of light.