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It confuses me at times

Why people are ashamed.

They’re ashamed of their eye color,

Of the depth of brown.

Perhaps it reveals too much pain,

An ache that blue would blur.

They’re ashamed of their parents,

Or perhaps their heritage.

They change their names,

From Owusu to Terrence.

They’re ashamed of wrinkles,

Of the wisdom they’ve earned.

But that makeup covers also

The scar and tear’s trickle.

And I realize I, too, am ashamed of myself.

I’m ashamed time has passed

And left such scars.

But I wait for the winds to wear them away,

As I sit on the ledge of the abyss edge.

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