The red light told me to stop
while the green called from me afar
telling me to pass
while the orange had nothing say
but to let me swiftly pass through this lamentable state on my way to work when I’m late anyway
some colours had nothing to do with time
or love
but there’s something about love that is red and white
and I do not know what it is
whether is the communication
drawing up colours different from your partner’s paper plate
is the trust
so colourful that its bloody wreckages are mistaken to the colour red
I don’t know why,
but what I know is that those who tell white lies, will soon be colour blind
because colours have far more important things to do than race

Published by ziyaad poetry

Muslim spoken word artist poet from South Africa.

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