I am brown, I am blue, I am green, I am white, I am human.
I am princess pink, I am mint green, I am blood red, I am human.
I am burnt orange, I am sultry purple, I am human.
I am midnight black, I am human.
I am stark white, I am human.
I am sand brown, I am human.
I am an inescapable mix and mesh of each color, yet unhuman.
In your eyes, I am merely my color. I am only another plum purple, or metallic gold.
To you, I am my label, and my label is me.
But each color is merely what we are, not who we label ourselves as.
It is merely what happened by fate, unchosen by man's flawed opinions
My milk white appearence and sea foam green aura must truly bother you.
With each color in one person, we still find a flaw to pick at.
As if picking a gushing scap to the bone, only to find
As if prying the searing flesh of your wounded player, only to find
a simpering layer of forest green.
Each warped color concotion mixes itself into a stream of strange, lovely colors.
Yet they are all human.
Funny how that works.