You inherit from the world all your freckles, birthmarks and stains.
Your visual defects deform the world's image in your eyes.
Your fragile skin set cracks to the sunburns of man, undressing your core, selling out your Traumas.
In spite of this you remain a unique opposite of melanism for you deny to dance and blend with any color or concrete of the world.
I can only see beauty in your constant stream of "blanc",
Achieved through a lot of
shades,
blades,
and pains.
Which in mine inner eyes display a wild fire burning into a masterpiece...
What masterpiece?
YOU ARE READING
TALES OF EDEN
PoetryA place where voiceless stories, anxieties, traumas, struggles, fights and victories are echoed.
