My hue
Black isn't my choice,
But the fearful beats of my voice,
That trains the pure course of my worth,
Which curls out painted soul I was birth.
If being drunk isn't true,
Nothing would be blue.
When sense isn't a black dove,
The soul no doubt lacks love.
Every sense been played a game,
Do sponsor other's fears aflame.
No one is ever wise,
Until thy foolishness is in loves baptize.
Truly, no foolishness is a waste,
Naked are thy knowledge not braced.
Black is beauty,
In its abuse, I've adopted my duty.
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