Race
I should be someone,
act a certain way,
as depicted by the color of my skin
and the way my eyes are shaped.
But
I don’t and for that,
I am scorned.
Stay in your lane,
some scream.
While others murmur,
“Why is the white girl here?”
Even though on every standardized test
I’ve ever taken
I check “Native American/Pacific Islander.”
It’s hard to figure out
what my skin means
when what I am inside
is much more colorful.
Why can’t they see
I’m not my culture?
I am me.