We all have colour
The children gather in a crowd,
one by one they scream aloud.
I see a girl about my age,
standing upon the performing stage.
Her face bright but sad,
her skin doesn’t seem at all bad,
yet the difference in the colour,
seems to make everyone mad.
I hear the sound of an angry voice,
yet we all have colour,
we don’t have a choice.
The sound of the silly children fades away,
like the sound of an echo on its way,
and instead I hear what the girl has to say.