Sun
Rains down.
On skin: black, white, yellow, and brown.
And all skins burn
Under the natural UV light.

Skin
Is something that is not so profound.
It exists in triangular lines of cells that are bound.
Mending and bending with tears and scars,
Over the muscles, tissues, and blood vessels alike.

Skin
Is something that is on the surface; mind you.
They tell you from the start that it’s the inside that counts,
With glitters and flowers and sticker stars,
That you are perfect no matter who you are.

Skin
Is the first thing pre-schoolers recognized.
One boy bluntly points out that this girl is
Dark and *****, different from the rest.
I grab the finger away from her eyes.

Skin
Is the first thing that teenagers find to name.
They call you ******, chinks, and a Terrorist.
They dress as you for Halloween in “good” jeers,
Never to understand the hurt behind and within.

Skin
Is the first thing that adults ask about.
They assume you are Chinese, Japanese, Aboriginal, Afri-
Firmly I interrupt to explain about ethnicity and nationality,
But they don’t care about who you are.

Skin
Is the first thing couples try to match.
Because people stare when black and white are holding hands.
Even I am guilty of such and curiously wish to ask,
How did they meet, fall in love and come about?

Skin
Is the first gossip in town.
It fills the news outlet with riots and protests,
With each claiming their right but backlash after backlash,
Just washes down the black mirror to static white.

Skin
Is the first thing I find myself noticing now.
In a fantastical resort in front of Dominican beach.
White privilege enjoys an all-around buffet while
Dark-toned staff work around the clock.

Knee deep in the surface skin.
People bury themselves in it and live.
But even insects and animals shed their skin.
So, why so much emphasis on the
Skin.

I ain’t saying that being White makes you racist or rich.
I ain’t saying that being a coloured minority makes you a victim.
It’s just something I have noticed;
A problem so thin but keen in everyday
Life.

Wishing
For equity, not equality
The needs exist. After all,  
Bleach skin with white sunscreen
Is always guaranteed.

Do we choose the life we’re given?
Is it a deal made from before?
Perhaps made with the devil
His lures are hard to ignore

Yes, I made deals with the devil
Before I reached this foul Earth
But I’m not so good with making deals
So I’ve lacked lighter skin since birth

Some others have better fates than me
They are given such beauty and grace
But what right do we have to determine
Of which one is the fairest face?

And what would we puppet fools sacrifice
For a finite time of beauty?
Not the bloodshed of human race,
We wouldn’t be that selfish, oh surely!

Yet I watch millions die from something
As simple as the colour of their skin
Who is the real underlying winner here?
Who are they to escape from this sin?

I know the answer every day
Is it something you’re afraid to know?
That if you could, you’d do it again
For the devil who’s enjoying this show

Now if I could, I’d like to go back
To just before I cross the gates of life
To tell myself that it all shouldn’t matter
That how I look like shouldn’t bring me such strife

Did, or would you, make deals with the devil?
Don’t worry, all we humans are flawed
And ignorant enough to so much as believe
That such a devil could perhaps be a god.