I shed,
Like petals,
That floated to the hard earth,
And was called words,
That dug in,
Deeper then the deepest,
Of thorns,
Because roses hold,
the beauty,
But shield the pain,
In vines like veins,
We see there stronger,
Then the delicate outlines,
We have been accustomed to,

But one thing,
He didn't care to notice,
Her eyes were not blue,
Like the violets,
Her eyes were a brown,
Of coffee stains,
And Bibles,
Where words really did hurt,
Because they oppressed,
Telling us it's okay,
To be different,
If we separate the blue eyed,
From the browned,
But him not noticing,
The color of her eyes,
Is like as if Ah wanted him,
And every man to point out,
That they had different colors,
Of skin,
That he thought,
they were example enough,
Of how these word and names,
Hurt,
But will not be,
A belief ,

For roses are red as violets blue,
And I may love you,
But you have be stabbed,
Bleed red blood,
By hateful names,
Because brown eyes,
aren't blue,
But I still loved you.