I go to school, isn't it obvious?

Sixteen year old girl with a backpack,

It's pretty clear to see.

I go to classes, then lunch, then class again,

Hop the bus, go home, do homework go to bed.

But if you look through my eyes

Just for a day,

I wonder what you'd see.

Through my eyes I see people,

Specifically of European descent. 

They're everywhere, and I'm used to it,

My eyes have adjusted to see only white.

I don't look at my naturally dark hair,

Or my tanned skin,

Because my eyes don't do that.

Heaven knows I'm Asian,

And I know it too.

But when all you see is white,

Without looking at yourself,

that's what you believe. 

What I believe.

When I see someone of color, 

It's like a beautiful, colorful paintdrop

On a white canvas.

In my eyes, 

It's different and stands out.

And then I realize that I am a paintdrop.

Just not through my eyes.