Her pale skin knew all the secrets.
When the maze would twist,
and when it would turn,
when it etched a clear path,
and whispered the escape route.

His dark skin was trapped.
The maze unleashed its branches,
tightening the grip around his body,
tangling him up in the mess
that she had created.

It was designed
by her ancestors,
for only one to win.
This maze
is the one they call life.

She needed to forge a new path.
One where he leads, she follows.
One where the branches
only burden the deserved,
and not for the colour of their skin.