White women are as fragile as a beautiful butterfly.

She cannot handle what other women can!

 

That is why her skin is green,

for her struggles are taken and cared for by a white man.

 

No dirt can touch her hands,

No matter the circumstance.

 

For she will be tangled in knots

because her father did not let those little fragile hands become new.

 

Did you hear?  That little white woman

can never, ever touch the brown moist sand.

 

For if she did she might change,

wanting to become like other folks

 

Who enjoy life through their suffering.

Oh No! No! No! that is way, way too strenuous for the white woman.

 

For her skin is supposed to stay green for the rest of her life.

She cannot handle what other women can!

 

All a white woman can do is be a trend setter.

For everything she symbolizes is weakness.

She must have fake nails, fake boobs and

color throughout her face.

 

Her green skin compliments her weakness

for that is all she has to look forward to in life.

 

Everything is at the palm of her fragile white hands,

because white women cannot take care of themselves.

 

For they are consumed in their own fake reflection

that is beautiful to every man.

 

But, there is something missing from these beautiful green hands.

What could this be? Love.

 

For if she knew what love meant then maybe just maybe

the white woman’s warped perception would change.

 

Until then my white skin will be seen as green

in the eyes of  unforgivable souls.

 

I have been stamped by my ancestry.

For I have been given everything a man wants!

 

I am not who I am predestined to be,

but I am a white woman

 

fragile in all her ways