I was innocent, until you outlawed my existence. I was free of charges, until you put me up for sale. 

I was suddenly unwelcome, in your so called home, because I stopped hanging out in your fields. 

I had a dream so real, it woke you up, on the wrong side of the bed…

You ran so far ahead, of the truth, before I found my feet. You still had time to look behind and watch me stumble in amusement.

You limited my choices, because I refused to pick, when you asked.

You tell me my face is ugly, and give me yours as a mask. 

 I worked hard, for a while, amassing a woodpile, only to later burn it. In attempts to draw attention, to a fire you started. You use that same flame to torch holes in my history, later to fill them in with ego fuelled lies.

I was a blank canvas, until you coloured me black. You now refuse to look at your own painting. 

The gloomy heirloom built on generations of pain; decorated in every shade of genocide. 

Whether you choose to accept credit for the disaster master piece inspired by hate,fear, and fate;

or acknowledge that, you, neither held a whip nor hold the blame 

Without any change in the patterns our colours make, you will gain from these moral stains all the same. 


Published by chidi3s

All available Original paintings listed here You can now buy my art as fabrics, wall paper, and gift wrap! just follow the link :)

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