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Tainted

A color that's different; I call it unique.

By Kalina XiongPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
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Tainted
Photo by Sergio Rodriguez - Portugues del Olmo on Unsplash

Some restless nights pondering over the "why's"

A futile questionnaire towards imperfections.

To blend in was her feeble try.

This world described as a blank reflection,

But only how bright, we are taught.

Devoid of tainted prints

Like herself, she had thought;

Possessing a color too different.

Many a division,

Her kind named as the "other"

A worthless position,

But many just like her.

Palettes with different colors could not mix clean;

It's just the way it worked.

A fact to be deemed.

Another restless night, now pondering with her lord;

In hopes to have her wish for change, be rest assured.

He only listens and guides her to the vanity mirror,

Sadly watching each eye drain out a tear.

Such assumptive flaws,

Not one but none.

Nut-brown eyes with skin tame in the sun.

Life produces varying packages with a difference;

Painting the world with the brush of existence.

How unique must it be, all well defined?

The kind of colored beauty only she confined.

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About the Creator

Kalina Xiong

When you engulf yourself enough in other people's worlds, you eventually fantasize about your own.

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