Poetry

Melanin, a Sorrowful Singer

I am loamy; a molded beauty
Husband to cutie; a basket of fragile soul
For this basket begets a pigment of my fragment
My piece—I bestowed upon thee “Melanin”
A seed of stygain darkness
Its beauty buried beneath cells
This cells feeds thy hair color—ebony thou became
Popping thy skin receives—this gift a damage shield
For this shields thee from the sorrows of thy enemy called “melanoma”
All these bringeth Melanin, yet man rejects, for lame reasons
Absurd they sound when thee say these:
“It’s a pigment of shame
Digrace to fashion
Betrayal to albinism
Object of mediocrity
Despised by beauty”

For this breaks my heart that man forgets its gain
And subjects thee to pain
A shinning beauty now terrified by light
For it bruises its flesh and leaves it teary.
Melanin once a beauty now an arid
Melanin a sadist with teary eyes
Melanin a sorrowful singer.

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