He can’t breathe as they eat his flesh alive,

how can a man ever survive?

if they disregard the soul in his eyes

and drink up all those ailing, lethal lies?

History is ink written on black skin

with the pain the world couldn’t pencil in.

Simple truth lies skin-deep, beneath—

In the brisk air they all breathe.

Only there will they purely uncover,

that people are one multicolour,

they’re sublime forms of art in different tones;

creations of life laced on brimming bones.

They all meet in shades of love, joy, fear and despair.

They all dream and strive; spiral and grieve—connect and share.

They’re all sacred souls by birth.

They all return to the same earth.

By Enas R

From: Saudi Arabia

Instagram: _artistenas