Colors of Man

The child’s laughter
is unheard.
A cry for joy
and happiness
and light
into emptiness.
The child’s smile
is unseen.
A splash of
joy and giddiness.
This is a symptom
of life and love
of bliss and play
of cartwheels, jungle gyms,
and swings.
When silence takes,
all is gone but the sound of rain,
splashing, dripping unrelentlessly.
The orange child,
is unseen
because there is no such thing
as an orange child.
The grey man
is not who he thinks he is.
He doesn’t know.
He can’t see.
But he doesn’t even exist.
The white man
has a burden,
he must be untouched.
Umbrella in his hand,
and eyes fixed on the ground.
He knows not
what orange is.
He’s only heard of black,
the color of his soul.
Business, money
this is what his eyes
fixate on.
The green man is a fool.

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