I am color.

When I score the winning goal in the soccer game,

I am a sparkling yellow that is as bright as the sun!

Sometimes, I have a rough day,

And I feel like a despondent blue that is as dark as the night sky.

Other times,

It’s hard to find who I am.

I know this could take long.

What sets me and others apart?

Where do I choose to stand?

I want answers to appear like the bang of a gong.

Reaching down into my heart,

or searching up above.

When racial slurs are used against you

When people leave you out because of your skin color

When people look at you because of your skin

When you know you’re different

When someone spits at you because of your skin

I hate

being short

the feeling of being left out

how I have to say stuff in front of everyone

answering questions in front of people even though I know it

how I don’t know stuff

I hate

how sometimes,

I’m mean,

You could be a picture

Of gleaming perfection.

Indeed, an orchestra,

Of human without sin.

The world at your whims,

Subject to your knees,

Yet you ask nothing of them,

For every person sees,

That you are perfect.

I am an ordinary school girl,

I have homework,

I have assignments,

I have essays,

and I have tests.

Talking with others

feeling so very different

never quite the same

Jokes at my expense

The others laughing so hard

Try and fail to smile

I am but a girl with scars,

Not those that are seen,

The kind buried beneath it all,

I am but a girl with a dream,

Like any other you will see,

I am unique,

But still like any other,

I’ve been thrown,

And hit,

There are so many, too many, humans in the world,

Who are silenced, forgotten, voices never heard.

We make snap judgments based on race,

Appearance, or simply the look of their face.

But each of these people in the world,

Fear of not being good enough,

World with Judgment,

People knowing everything about you,

Mistakes talked about

being judged feelings pain

we are who we want to be

people can be different

wishing of Living

I found myself

staring out of my bedroom

window,

my eyes followed the footsteps

of the strangers walking below me.

I am a story

my existence made for people to enjoy.

They skip over me

flip

flip

flip

to see only the things they want to see

not what they need to see.

I am a tree

tall and skinny

my roots run deep

and my leaves are big,

and grow up high.

Nearby are my family trees,

from which my seed came.

A bit further are my friends

of all shapes kinds and sizes.

Blondes are

Stupid

Popular

Ditsy

Un-athletic

Girly girls

Blonde is a label

Look at my personality

Look past my hair

Blonde is not me

I am

Smart

Athletic

Messy

Hiding in the background.

Behind everything and everybody.

I’m missing something in me.

I wait at the end of the mat thinking those thoughts.

Thinking as hard as my brain would let me.

When I’m starting to run...

The wallflower sits and listens,

in the back of the classroom,

remembering each word spoken.

She never smiles,

never laughs,

has never shown emotion.

I am a perfectionist. Even a simple task will take me a long time to complete. I often overdo things and when something is not faultless, I will hate it. I never turn in a project that isn’t exactly the way I want it.

You see, I’ve been on both ends, the smile and the tear,

But still I stand after all of my years,

Perhaps a little wiser, maybe stronger too,

But I’m still nowhere close to what I’m meant to do.

And although I seem generous and incredibly kind,

I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let go.

I’m the kind of girl who doesn’t let her true colors show.

The girl who hides her sadness as if she’s wearing a mask

And says that everything is fine.

The girl who pretends everything is sublime.

Who am I?

     I am a puzzle. A million words and thoughts and ideas, feelings that fit together.

     I can maybe identify some of them if