Would you still pray?
If God was black?
If he did not fit into the mirror you love talking to.
Maybe, when I try to see you,
I look through a hole in a piece of paper
attempting to see the shadow of your eclipse.
I dress you up in clothes like mine
and adorn you with my ideas
of who you are
and should be.
It makes me impregnable to the world.
Impervious to fear...
And to the truth.
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