My skin. 

My melanin. 

My pigment that makes my skin appear darker.

My pigment that absorbs all light.


The skin that people aspire to have.

The skin that started man kind.

The melanocyte that people make fun of.

The melanin that has racial killings justified.

The skin that cost $345 just to get a gram.

The skin is so divine and is fine as wine.




I think this is a beautiful poem it really hits home on how african-american sometiomes feel.

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