the melanin on her skin brushed against the dainty leaves. a stark contrast came into formation. together they sat and pondered in harmony, while the rest of the world waged war and hatred. in her quaint little forest she sat, appreciating the glowing landscape. her eyes startling and attentive. her black locks slithered down her back. her hands faintly caressed the violets. she swayed with the breeze, she hummed a tune to the lonely blackbird. here she could do it all...
the melanin on his skin made him different from the rest. alone he sat in shambles, succumbing to the fate made for him. there he sat, with no one to care for him. his clothes were ragged and torn. his eyes were jittery, looking for any possible way to escape the tragedy that was his life. in front of him was the cesspool that man had left for the underdog, filled with envy and disgust...
once upon a time in a land that never existed, werewolves and vampires were supposed to be uncivil, but now isn't it the other way?
the melanin on his skin made him different from the rest. alone he sat in shambles, succumbing to the fate made for him. there he sat, with no one to care for him. his clothes were ragged and torn. his eyes were jittery, looking for any possible way to escape the tragedy that was his life. in front of him was the cesspool that man had left for the underdog, filled with envy and disgust...
once upon a time in a land that never existed, werewolves and vampires were supposed to be uncivil, but now isn't it the other way?
A baby can see the melanin on their skin but he will never know the difference between them. He may see the scaly skin of mammalian wings and the coarse tufts of hair flying in the wind but there will only be curiosity in his heart.
ReplyDeleteThe melanin on his skin doesn't make him different. He knows it. But shouldn't he remember forever?
beautiful piece
ReplyDeleteNethra this piece is very poignant. Who is uncivil ? That's a strong and apt question in today's world?
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