My skin(echo) …. was Bargained for the Benefits my melanin. This deranged darkness, once sold in bulk, now is chained to my carcass like brig bound hand me downs. Handed down through generations this hue awaiting its puberty to manifest its belonging. But as of now, republicans shiver, like jumping beans on still lava because... My melanin won’t break like porcelain plates. Mistake the cruel life with skepticism for race. While extinguishing the searing burns of whips while the tips of grotesque blood drips from my mouth allowing me to taste the bitter copper. Or sign away its name on dotted lines as this pigment has done before. I won’t surrender. Melanin succumbs to feeds of knowledge without branching its thoughts to the brain. So intelligence is considered a niche in this community. Far be it for the melanin free society to reap the benefits of bliss in the overcoming of being ignorant because some exemplify ignorance. And yet certain Caucasians embody cancerous modifications in an attempt to acquire this darker distinction? This pigmentation only positively paralleled when thin pink lips drenched in ultra neon lip gloss worn by white wine bar floozies who lick strawberries dipped in my image. Because everybody eats chocolate; but they forget that everybody s***s. So many Caucasians try to speculate, scientifically admonish or gyrate they’re etched in sand bodies but they lack the essence, so they just…EMULATE. Melanin enables my nerve synapses to unhinge the screws that linger the bend of the power that flows beyond the dam. Quenching the thirst of weakness from a cotton mouth land that’s picking out the thorns in their tongues. So the tribes of ancestors whose hearts departed, theorists reported melanin started their soul. Conjured the images that in the glimpse of colors; the coal shadowed pot enhances the shine for the gold. While giving blacks inherited superiority, the black fists adjacent to the stars have shown brighter in comparison to lightness. Like Maya Angelou, Garrett A. Morgan, Oprah Winfrey, Nelson Mandela, and Rosa Parks. These five fingers symbolize the points of color they painted on the world in black. But many may ask what about Abraham Lincoln, Robert Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, Benjamin Franklin, and John Adams? Whose similac skin was the inner lining to the bend of our cultures together. But It seems amiss evolution, white people froze the growth to become as my brothers and sisters. Because the hue in man defines the color of their templates. And yet this shield yields pathogens into my bloodstream preventing diseases bulls eyed inside whites but igniting my blemished coal hues. From persistent attempts of robbing Jackie from the American past time, Or the captivity of air beneath the soles of Jordan’s footprints, The cemented rejections of progression for Ali, A morbid victimless trial for young Trayvon, Or the crouching adulterous Tiger on hole 9. This hue hasn’t chosen to be seen as a disgrace. But you can still see the bitter faces. My melanin has free range of spirit, making me click my heels when there’s no place like home inside. I am enlightened; when the sun takes its time, climbing my spine, weaving its honeymalt fingers to flavor me. This melanin decorates these fortified bodies accentuating its essence of the Gene pool of mankind. However, Composed through sewn webs of generations’ pages, my melanin has been torn apart. But now it pours from rebellious cups down your throats, Choking, Turned to convulsing and evoking the adoration for the tint branded on my canvas. So the shackles once embedded in my skin, that clambered jingles and deprived sweet melodies within, no longer restrict the violations of amending my abilities that harbored happiness in sin…and to begin my end, I am happy in my skin. My melanin skin. The skin im in.