Sitaaron Ke Aavaaz || poetry

c a r a m e l f l e s h

Now Playing: "Your Best American Girl" -Mitski

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"Her skin was akin to burnt caramel, bitter and unpleasant; accompanied by a sugary scent."
Authors chose a million phrases to illustrate their ivory protagonists, but when it came down to me and my caramel flesh I got 15 words or less.

Blinding milky lights corrupt sight, distorting perceptions of beauty.
The parasites of eurocentric standards bleaching my caramel flesh.
The sting of corrosive liquid converts it back to plain white sugar.

My paper bag skin is rough and thin.
Nothing compared to their porcelain.
Purity and elegance dripping off their sleeves,
Muddy eyes leaking tears, jealous of the way they're perceived

Their faces appear to be fine china hand crafted by the Gods.
While my caramel flesh reflects the polluted waters

Their eyes are described as oceans, rivers and sapphire stones.
Emerald, chartreuse and other green tones,
Granite and quartz are all beautiful choices.
While I'm nothing more than chocolate, cinnamon and nutmeg.

It's humorous how the word "brown" is avoided like a disease, instead replaced with sweet desserts and spices.
But I'm not caramel, chocolate, nutmeg or any other sweet or spice.
I'm a goddamn person exhausted from this injudicious fight.
My skin is not a tool to fill in your boxes of "diversity"
When it ends up stereotyped or used as comedic relief.

My caramel flesh dissolves in water,
exposing my rusted gold complexion.

feel free to bully me for this