That’s not me.

Tell me something I don’t know not

How the copper wires that spring from my roots don’t match yours 

And that my color is so “interesting”

Tell me something I can’t see

Something that tells my story

Not just of the history of my grandparents being raped and poisoned with lighter skin

Or how my tall limbs make you quake within

Tell me something that’s me

Make me into your living wonders: golden skin, thick hips, curly hair, hazel eyes, tall and slim...

Except that’s not me.