Beads of sweat stir up a line
Residents in queue, confined
Narrow long queues assure
A hope, a future, true of valor.
Agitated walks past cages and fences
Every minute a case of jitters
Mysterious that future
Unobstructed love or terror.
Simple little faces unaware
To those of creed and color beware
Where your place just might be
God is above, not here to see
One by one every wrist inked
Color of the ink embossed
That which will tell
Life beyond is hell
Inching past I stop before you
My eyes peer for you to be true
Birthright thrown and tossed
As a subject judged to be crossed
Wrist pulled forward
The stamp over the palette
Cruel eyes over me hover
"Sorry we do not have your color"