She was judged before she opened her eyes,
She knew nothing of the world’s cruel lies.
She felt like a trapped little mouse,
Already judged inside her own house.

People wanted her to be fair,
But the weight of it — she couldn’t bear.
They said being fair would take her far,
As if her brown skin was a scar.

She never chose the shade she wore,
But they treated her colour like something to abhor.
What was her fault? What was the sin?
She didn’t know race was something to begin.

As she lays down, it still lingers,
Why they pointed at her with fingers.
She was just a little girl,
With a hidden, precious pearl.

At day’s end, she longs to be seen,
Just like any other fair teen.
Sometimes she blamed her own self,
Buried beneath thoughts of someone else.

She feared the world of people so mean
But she knew she was stuck inbetween
All she wanted was to be proud…
Not buried, but to rise from the ground.