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.


2 thoughts on “The Spell of being Black”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s