I go to school, isn't it obvious?
Sixteen year old girl with a backpack,
It's pretty clear to see.
I go to classes, then lunch, then class again,
Hop the bus, go home, do homework go to bed.
But if you look through my eyes
Just for a day,
I wonder what you'd see.
Through my eyes I see people,
Specifically of European descent.
They're everywhere, and I'm used to it,
My eyes have adjusted to see only white.
I don't look at my naturally dark hair,
Or my tanned skin,
Because my eyes don't do that.
Heaven knows I'm Asian,
And I know it too.
But when all you see is white,
Without looking at yourself,
that's what you believe.
What I believe.
When I see someone of color,
It's like a beautiful, colorful paintdrop
On a white canvas.
In my eyes,
It's different and stands out.
And then I realize that I am a paintdrop.
Just not through my eyes.