A race, defined by the bodies outwardly expressed characteristics, the darkened or lightened pigments, even those that bleed between the lines. The minds of the few still within their natural inheritance harbor such hate and ignorant cruelty based on simple concepts like the skins beautiful colors. How cruel must the heart be to spread within the bodies numbers such ideas of prejudice and hate, to inflict judgement and torment onto and into the bodies that look unalike to their own. Rejecting their beautiful differences, how their skin does not reflect their soul and true heart. Their skin does not tell their story with a simple glance, it does not define their actions and intent. A darkened pigment, covered in hate, but filled with unlimited hope and purity. Driven through madness and inequality, somehow their minds break free and continue to thrive, those who sing with swift powerful messages, preach love at the altar, and speak to the world in political hope for change. Let us look past it, look past the body and its physical expression, delve into each other's hearts, perceive justly into the other's soul. Let them breath with us, hold our hands, unrequited but unfazed, slowly sparking with it a change of thoughts. Under our skin, flows the same crimson essence, our bodies are exact in each model, a simple change in skin doesn't change that unreputable fact. We are the strong, the many, and all our lives matter, for all life shall be cherished and remembered in our history. All matter no distinction will change this, no thought, guilt, or body will prove this untrue. So the body speaks out to all, be proud. Be proud of our bodys and their unique differences, that make us who we are, the bodies natural beauty pregressioning our souls to acceptance. Stand together the skin an array of colorful displays of passion, sharing the love that all capable let flow into existence, spoken and physical gestures of a not yet finished and completed goal of equality for all. Bodies hold together, through storm and high tide, let tragedy not be the spark for help and the only memory of this battle, continue everyday even on the happiness to continue this war for bodily rights. Body, it is, perfect no matter how blemished, disfigured, distorted, or different. All bodies, it is perfect to express its beauty, to be proud of its flaws and perfections, to accept itself as others accept it. Our bodys hope and beg that others minds take others into its mental consideration of giving love to all. Showing and expressing its love for those who have persevered and still live today. Be proud of your body, race, and pigment. Your body is not a prison, or label, but a perfectly written story.

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