Ethnicity, an identifier to some,
a misfortune to others...
She hides, her true identity under a body she feels isn't her own,
Mocked behind closed doors
she listens, the creep of laughter reminds her she is not normal.
Attempts to block out the sound of her acquaintances
A scar on her neck, a burden on her confidence,
the question to forever haunt her,
in fear that she will have to defend something so minuscule.
She didn't ask to be born in this skin,
this mixed, hybridized skin.
Neither did she ask for the slandering comments that followed.
You see, when you're blended,
others can't see
Race doesn't mean a thing to two lovers,
two lovers indeed.
Despite all of the hate
from being epitomized
as something unexpected,
she held her head high,
because she knew,
she was blended.