Split

Not in-between, 

not one and the other

Mixed

Not just one color

I don’t feel like I fit in

Not Black, not White

What’s within?

Whites say that

I’m “not one of them”

Blacks say that

I’m “too light-skinned”

Even my hair is mixed,

curls that aren’t perfect

Some straighter than others,

some kinky, it just doesn’t fit

If I had a dollar for every

bigoted-comment someone has said,

I’d change the hair upon my head

But that wouldn’t fix much,

since my nose is still wide

Although my skin is closer to White

Well, I used to be dark

Back in California, where the

Sun shines everywhere, and rainbows arc

Not anymore, my skin lost its pigment

In the cold of the Pacific North

I feel as if I am losing my identity,

not knowing who I am

All of my family gone,

Back South in the sand

Looking at the back of my hand,

White, with just a little tan