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Legacy of Being - 22/01/2001

An anomaly I was, waving red rags at a bigoted bull
a matador misfit evading the horns and jibes.
all the while spectators bayed for the blood of the cull
encouraging the beast to gore out my insides.

I wore perceived imperfections like hang-mans loops
my differences tolled my coming like a leper's bell.

The cruellest of archers made a target of my soul
inflicted wounds with the arrows of childhood spite.
Living had a cost and in happiness I paid the toll
in exchange I got malice and misery blurred my sight.

I spent my adolescence in the eye of a racist storm
where clouds of threatened violence plagued my days.

Etched across my mind is this scar tissue of my youth
a dark, disfiguring tattoo emblazoned across my brain.
A weakness of insecurities now stands arrogant and aloof.
Casts a pall of self-derision. Marks my confidence like a stain.

A Caucasian father's son, in hue if not in spirit,
my maternal Afro genes, in spirit if not in hue.
 
© Nicholas Vosper 2001