• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 01
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The Decision Maker

One white boy watches one white hand
scratching at the black, searching for colour
under the skin.

I am dirty, some call me mould,
I came from nowhere, creeping up through
the brickwork, seeking, always seeking.

From my damp corner I watch a shaft of light
paint prismatic mutations, many hands holding
up a neutral wall

Turn white boy, like my colour, let me stay.