Mine, the color of salted toffee

Hers, a delicate cream

The perfect layer of latte foam

That lowers my self-esteem

 

Or maybe it's more of a porcelain white

Only opinion knows

Her dream-like complexion made of cloud

Was pigmented by a rose

 

My ceramic skin darkens without end

Even to the tips of my toes

I would trade for hers without complaint

As if we were changing clothes

 

But little did I know her thoughts

I never heard her cries

Her waxen face, humiliates

My skin was perfect in her eyes

 

There she goes, that gorgeous girl

She's out to buy my tan

I hide behind a shaded curtain

While she lounges in the sand

 

Products of our mother's love

They said they know what's best

"You're too dark" or "You look sick"

"Instead, go look like the rest"