A poem about being white, and not speaking of race.
Skin, eyes, hair--
Pale. White. Milky.
Never knew the sun could be
such an enemy to me.
No one told me it was
for the sun to hurt each time you step into the light.
I shield my eyes from the pain that brightness inflicts,
and I hide my skin from the rays.
Else there would be:
headaches, piercing my already
damaged eyes and radiating throughout
my head, and
burnt and peeling skin from which no darkness comes.
O, you dark eyed,
and skinned one. I envy your color,
not for the sake of beauty, but for
I glow in the dark,
Can I get
a Melanin transplant?
Albino, am I, you say?
No, not quite, but close.
Enough to look and feel