Inked Labels

I must have bought a faulty mirror Because I can’t see what others see I look and see my simple reflection They see words surrounding me Lines and letters written in ink A tattoo I didn’t ask for They must have done it in my sleep Waging a silent war It runs across the skin of my back Traversing down my spine It seeps deep into my bones It’s written on my mind Why when others ask me Who are you and why? They listen less to what I say Than what they want to see “Emotion” suffocates my heart Trying to beat against ink layers “Catholic” crosses both my wrists Tying my hands from prayer “Feminist” stitches shut my lips The better to kiss and tell “Humanities” on each fingertip For talents they cannot sell There has yet to be a color invented That describes my tone of skin They paint me white or paint me brown Never in between And so now I stand and wonder At the labels so inadequate and plain Will there ever come a day Where my only label is my name?