From the day you first live
It is easy to think
That life would forgive
That you painted me pink.
An innocent child
At the age of just two
Thaught that life would be mild
When you painted it blue.
I was an envious self
At age seventeen.
Put my thaughts on a shelf
And I painted them green.
I'd get high in the park.
The drugs made me mellow.
It took only one spark,
To turn my skin yellow.
I would end my own life.
I'd rather be dead.
If you'd hand me a knife,
I would paint myself red.
I don't want to fight.
It'll be over some day.
It's the dark side of white.
So don't paint me grey.
This may sound sincire.
But I'm not coming back.
And I solomnly fear,
That you painted me black.
My life was not free
For I was judged by my Skin,
And this is what drove me
Than the colour within.
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