WRAPPING PAPER/ Rikako Kurasawa

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