Biracial in the Seventh Grade
Ripped from my cocoon,
I stand in a lunch room,
looking for a seat.
I just want to eat.
I am not expecting a mirror
but I cannot see myself here.
It looks like each table has a code
and I am thinking I should not have showed.
I see a table where only black girls sit,
each seat getting filled bit by bit.
Nearby I see what looks like the white girls' table.
Without me the theme remains stable.
No one wants me to sit with them,
there is nowhere I could blend in.
I go home and ask my mom, "why?"
I want to cry.
I learn that I am not whole
and I feel out of control.
I am in pieces,
how have I never seen this?
Identity is everything,
and not having one stings.
It is not always black and white,
but with me, those two are right.