"You're basically white"

Yet my skin

Is the shade of the dirt

That provides the conditions

For the rosy cheeked

Pink flowers to blossom

To feel like they are above me

With their petals held high

Soaking up the sun

Which they would never actually say

Because flowers don't talk

I'm in a suburban bubble

No better than the rest

Freshly painted

White

Picket fences

As far as the eye can see

Which isn't really that far.

The moment the bubble

swallowed me

Assimilation

Adaptation

Change

Why does changing

mean losing something

But is it really lost

Because no one is trying to find it

Little girls

Scrubbing their skin in the shower

Secretly wishing to be fair

Which isn't fair.

While I've never been outside

Always in a suburban bubble

At least I can see it

Others are in a stadium

With opaque walls

Yet the soapy pristine texture

Is kept

Ones that have never

Taken a step

Outside,

Reside

But do they live?

Do they realize

Calling me white

Isn't a compliment

Because I am proud to be

Me