In the mirror she gazes at herself, a canvas of color, a painting, beautiful and vibrant.
Her skin, a mark of her heritage, a blessing from her ancestors, and a statement of herself.
Yet in their eyes, the others, it is a mark, a distinction of difference.

Words sharp as daggers, cut through the air, and stab her through her heart.
They brand her “other”, “strange”, “alien”, when truth be told they are one in the same.
All the same.
A cruel discord, echoing in the hallways, in her mind, in her ears, in her dreams.

She walks, as does everyone else, but her world is painted in monochrome. However for others, for “real people” it is nothing but rainbows.
Why is that?
Her color, it is a drop of blood in a colony of sharks.
Leaving her an easy target, vulnerable.

She yearns for acceptance, for understanding, for love.
But the world offers her nothing but hatred and disapproval.
A demand for equality, given a denial of her truth and her identity.

In her heart, she knows, her color is not a curse, but a blessing.
Yet the world, in its blindness, fails to see, fails to appreciate.
And so, she cries a stream of sadness, for her beauty is lost in the minds of ignorance.
When in reality, she is just another hue.