Blank Label

People told me I was yellow

because of the shade of my skin

was different

and could somehow be comparable to the flowers of the sun

that covered vast fields and brought joy to children

People told me I was whitewashed

like somehow every "call me by my english name"

was a mask of my true identity

yet adding to my value

like the glaze of freshly made doughnuts

Those who didn’t know me thought I was like sweet tea

the color of a down-to-earth personality

a good girl, who was nice, smart and pretty

And those who did, thought I was like bitter melon

a light green that could have been aesthetically pleasing

but an acquired taste and my shield potentially too prickly

- hopelessly emotional, impractical, somewhat of a mess

- put-together, competent, but quiet and a little too stoic

- the loner dressed in black, empowered in my independence

- the socialite: quirky, fun and charming

Forever the new girl, moving from city to city

gaining identity after identity

I was a collector

always searching though the gifts bestowed upon me

Labels upon labels

For my true definition: the one that defines me best

But over the years, I only found a true truth:

I am nothing forever

But potentially everything

A blank and colorless label

always changeable,

maybe different

maybe unique

I can be whatever I want to be

but the one who truly has the power to decide who i am

is always

and forever will be

me.