On Albinos

On Albinos
My friend is phobic
about Albinos,
She cannot stand
to see them.
It defies the bases
of all reason,
yet she's quaking
and she's
freezing.
What's so bad about Albinos
I never fail to ask her.
"The fact they lack the
basic stuff
that makes us
yellow, brown or buff.
Melanin,
Coloured Skin,
They're pigment free,
Unnaturally."
But they're born that way
I never fail to say.
"But it can't be right,
Are they brown,
yellow
or white?"
But that doesn't matter,
if they're former,
middle
or latter.
Sans that melanin,
that coloured skin,
they just Be,
Him,
She,
You,
Me.
Without that troublesome little cell,
Millennia's history goes to hell,
Wars unfought,
Struggles naught,
'Twould be no sin,
Born without melanin.

after that afternoon

After that afternoon
(Part 1)
Inhibitions shed;
dead skin.
How brittle
Is her composure,
How porcelain
Is her restraint.

She melts;
Lead unto flame.
No King's men
To make her whole.
The renovation
must be her own

(Part 2)
Sans reason
A mindless mindlessness
The precipice so inviting,
And she accepted.
Willingly.

But she will not admit.
Claims she was pushed.
But who else was there?

A beautiful failing,
She will admit.
But hardly well thought of.
To fall
To fall
To fall
To fail.

Exquisite.