She was walking with her friends laughing, talking about others

She tried her best to fit right in with the group, she really did

But she couldn't

She was the sore thumb in the group

Because she was mixed

These were her light friends

Her curls bounced and framed her round face, while their pin straight hair flowed away from theirs

Because she was half and half

But really

she was an outsider

Someone longing to fit in.