I am not my race,
my skin color or my gender
I am not my name either
I am made of food that I eat
but I am also made of
skin
bones
blood
and tissues and muscles and so much more
But those are not what I am
My body doesn’t define me
It is my one and only home,
and I live in it
temporarily
it simply compliments the present that’s carefully packaged inside
it is the thin wrapping paper
and never more than that
Angles 