Saturday, 4 August 2018

The colour of my blood

It wasn't the colour of their Skin tone that matters, nor the silk nature of their hair, i was never interested in their race, religion or tribe,always afraid of height so that meant nothing to me anyways.

They came in different  shapes, colours and sizes, so i learnt to learn about new adaptations every hour. Studying them like some Cambridge scholarship exams i never get to write anyways.

I read their statements but never understood the last sentence ever, so i lost the message halfway through,, perhaps because they never spelt the words correctly,but i read them anyways.

Vulnerability was not my thing so i remained guarded at all times. They tell me to activate my shock absorbers but i didn't need to. I was already absorbed in shock.

No one knew my name, they were not Patient for the Story, so i tell them to myself instead. I became my friend when i didn't know the enemies.

Their hurt cuts so deep and i bleed out in pain,endlessly fighting the urge to fight back, and when i finally decide to, i realize the real colour of my blood.

It wasn't red after all. It was White, transparent, pure and crystal. It was my real Identity.

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