Do you think they even notice when our roots don’t really match
With the rest of what we have cascading down our backs?
Do you think they see the tracks from which our beauty flows,
When by mistake they are exposed?
Do you think they wonder why we pat our heads,
Forgo the comb to tame the itch and use a no. 2 instead?
Do you think we have them fooled into believing that our lashes are that long
Do they marvel, when they gaze into our eyes, that the Chinese in our background is so strong?
Do you think they question the expression of perpetual surprise
That some of us end up with when we draw the brows above our eyes?
Do you think they’ve grown accustomed to our pretty-coloured nails
The lengths of which can rival any feline’s with a tail?
Do you think they also notice that our toenails are as long,
And that our platform shoes are all that’s stopping them from resting on the ground?
Do they notice now that chocolate, coffee, cocoa are no longer preferred hues?
But they shouldn’t be judgemental – because some of them are bleaching too.