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Writer's pictureParishka Gupta

The Black One

Amidst the myriad fireworks,

In the mingle of a thousand crowds;

With the place walked by officers, ladies and clerks,


And festive music played about.

A young lad walked by

Making eyebrows rise and heads jerk.

Men turned around; women sighed


Thinking


What makes him come around and lurk?


I thought

Why push him out

Just because he is dark

Why flinch at his touch

As though he were an electric spark

Why look at him and pout

Just because he isn’t white

You never object the thin or stout

But run away at his sight


You keep the dark one at your beck and call

And give the white one food;

‘Tis for not only one ,but all!

Your compare him to the black bin bag

Just because ‘black’ is with what they are tagged.


He only wants to be happy

Even if he dwells in rags.

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