When I was younger I wished I’d been born a different color 
Because the girls at school who were darker than me 
Were loud and funny and colorful and brave 
(in my eyes) 
And I was shy and scared and quiet  
(on the outside, anyway)  

I got braver (sort of) as I got older 
I spoke in a colorful way 
(though not ladylike) 
And wore only black because I thought It made me look brave 
(I still wasn’t)  

Now I am even older 
And I sometimes wear bright colors in my hair 
(I’m brave enough to do that) 
And I speak my mind 
(not too shy for that) 

And not very much scares me anymore 
Except losing who I’ve become