We are full,
Opposing forces.

Our skin is like the shell that must hold firm,
Or else the atomic bombs going off beneath our skins would escape
And blow apart the universe.

She grips my hand a little tighter, and I begin walking a little faster

We can feel the frost on our ancestor's breath,
Whispering how wrong this is.

We move faster than traditions can catch us,
I can see the bombs going off in her blue eyes, lighting up her blonde hair,
And I know she can feel the heat coming from my brown skin and dark curls

People see a brown girl and a white girl.
I wonder if they know what I see when I look at her?
I see a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold, a girl that will always lift me up even when I want to fall,

I wonder what she sees when she looks at me...?

They walk silently behind us in the hall, our ancestors and their hateful whispers,
And I know that they are afraid of us.
That together, she and I will unravel our skins and let the bombs ignite
And the universe will shred along with old traditions, along with old ancestors.

We can blow apart the universe,
But to do so, our hands must be joined.