Tag Archives: Racism

Untouchable- Part 4

all we are
and all we’ll ever be
is skin and bones,
flesh and blood.

yet,
all we are
and all we’ll ever be
are death threats
and poverty
and food to fleas
and to ants
and to the vultures
of human kind

whatever we’re made of
we will always have
sunshine
and stardust
and moonlight;
the skies
and the earth

and yet,
it’s your skin
that I can’t touch
and if I do,
it’s you that i’m
forced to wash away
from my skin
every day
the offchance
that our skins
touched.

and yet,
it’s your fire
that kindles the flames
in my bones.

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Colour.

The Colour of my Skin doesn’t matter to you. Until it kills me.

You tell me you don’t see colour
But I’m a caramel mocha brown
While you’re just a Flat White
I’m a black board you write on
With white chalk
But you are a white board
With a redgreenblueblack marker.

You tell me you don’t see colour
But my skin is not dark enough
To be in a ghetto
My skin is too dark
For you to look through the barrell of a gun

You tell me you don’t see colour
But my skin is too brown
To not be diagnosed as a nutcase.
But I’m a PakiAfganMuslim Terrorist
My skin is too yellow
So i must be good at math
And that’s a compliment.

You tell me you don’t see colour
But ask me to pose for your university catalogue
I’m a statistic of multiculturalism
While you forget to teach my ancestors
In your Literature class.

You say you don’t see colour
But it’s me you check through airport security
Twice. Thrice. Four times.
Oh no, of course it’s a random check.
Of course you didn’t see my skin
Or my beard. Or my turban.
You didn’t call my sister a Paki bitch
Because of her skin colour
Even though she’s from Sri Lanka.

You tell me you don’t see colour
But it’s your blue uniform
That my mother has nightmares about
That my father is deathly afraid of
That killed my brother without a gun
That pulls the trigger every time
And gets away by the name of self defence.

You tell me you don’t see colour
But when the sirens come
It’s me who’s facing the gun
It’s me against whom the trigger is pulled
It’s me who is another statistic
Of a 17 year old boy with marijuana in my pocket
That’s dead murdered.