Segregated Noir

Rough poem about modern prejudices. I'm trying to work out meter and voice.

We paint in two lines.
One, a pure and feathery white,
A white to woo the hardiest soldier.

The other, glistening and motley,
A black that seeps into every divine
Moment.

But we forget -
We forget that the darkness
Can be comfort.

That the ugly duckling, putrid
And brown as it was, held
The same beauty
As the high-necked, white swan

This foul darkness of which you speak -
This griping, tugging fear –

It’s only in you.

Next time you paint, mix.