The Spell of being Black

Cast a gruesome eye into my satire

And see the leech draining my strength

For the spell of being black denies me a chance of earning

The desirable in life

Over time, I am the unluckiest or the undesirable element,

Who can’t fetch any life

Even with the number of papers swallowed along the way

Not because of negligence

Or being ignorant;

But of being black; that leech, the spell they always censor;

Any door knocked at, the blackness haunts

And daily, the thoughts about the spell traumatize my soul

And I keep wondering what kind of spell a color could be

When we both share the same red-colored blood and flesh.

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Published by

Edrissa Ken-Joof

The author is a Ph.D. candidate majoring in Management at Yuan Ze University, College of Management, Taiwan. He has a master's degree in International Affairs and Security Management from Ming Chuan University, Taiwan and a bachelor's degree in Political Science and English from the University of The Gambia.

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