At various stages of my existence,
people have mocked me, made jingles
and cracked at something beautiful ,
you would ponder.
The amount of melanin,
my genes could muster.
My skin colour.

Darkly fascinating it was,
I was the chocolate that could breathe.
People very encouragingly reminded me,
Of my stupid misfortune.
Squirming, as they saw my face,
An unfortunate child.
You would win laurels,
But Only , if you were fairer.

The colour defined my grace,
Defined my virtue,
Defined my impending doom.
A sprinkle of wand,
Would have done the trick God.
Only if I was fair and lovely.

Realisation struck me,
The black outside outshone the stars within.
I needed to be mended,
Potions brewed in a cauldron of hope,
I was conjuring dreams,
Dreams of golden complexion.

Years meddled by,
I cried in despair.
The barricaded Liberty outside,
Had blinded my vivacious self.
The world was a kaleidoscope of hues,
Intricately seducing my frivolous fantasies.
I cried again,
Tears of renewed acceptance.

I am dark,
And dark is beautiful.