“You're so pale,” they say –
“White as snow,
Skin like porcelain.”
But what they really say is, “you’re so simple –
Green as grass,
Malleable like clay.”
“You’re so blushing,” they say –
“Pink as a flower,
Meek like a mouse.”
But what they really say is, “you’re so frail –
Grey as ash,
Fragile like glass.”
I know what they really think –
Just a girl. Pale and fragile.
Just a child. Timid and irrelevant.
They don’t see the truth, though it’s plain as day –
Just a lady, joyful and pure at heart.
Just a woman, fierce and proud.
They see what they want, their souls like my complexion –
Pale, plain, and fragile.
I see through their masks.
Their lives lived between the lines –
Colors of white and black.
Greys all they can see.
I float on waves as numerous as my shades –
Dreaming in colors they can’t see,
My life lived outside the lines.