They try to tell me I’m not what I think.

They dye me and feed me full of their things.

Confrom Me.

I am myself.

I am fresh and sunny.

Me.

They take me and reap me. Stamp me.

Sun kissed.

They use my juice. Squeeze my life out of me.

They take my scent to clean dishes and make hands softer.

They use my seeds to grow more.

They throw away my skin, my shell. Nothing left.

I want to peel my skin off and show you the sun!

Well damn you. Yes you.

I want you to see me.

You don’t know me.

Don’t say I’m fake.

I’m not unreal.

I am me!

–Amy C. Rosen