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Band-aids by Christina Hupp

Flying, flying off the swings I go


Crashing, crashing the ground is approaching down below.
I look down at my scraped knee
I’m bleeding, bleeding off to the nurse I must see.

She hands me a nude, crisp band-aid,


yet the tan boy next to me seems dismayed.
His chocolate skin does not match my own,
In fact his band-aid contradicts his skin tone.

I look at the band-aids that line the wall,


Yet there is only one tint amongst them all.
In my brain I am so confused,
Because of all the band-aids, there is only one hue to choose.

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