I ride with my hair
Whipping back,
A long,
Flapping
Black flag.
Wind
Presses my face,
Freezes my lips,
Laces the cracks in knuckles with blood.
The city
Is a blur.
No one stares,
no one asks questions
When I am alone,
Pedaling my ruby-red bicycle.
No one knows I am different,
That I have a American mother.
That even though I look Chinese,
I'm American on the inside.
When I ride
I am like the ten million others
Moving in slow motion
Down frozen streets
In January.
Except I am fast,
Fitting between them,
A pink butterfly...
A/N: SORRY!! I'VE BEEN FOCUSED ON MY OTHER BOOK, IT WILL HAVE NO UPDATE SOON, WAIT A WEEK AND I WILL UPDATE IT!! TYSM FOR READING MY BOOKS, IF THIS ONE GETS TWO OR MORE READS I'LL DO AN DOUBLE UPLOAD, TOMOROW
YOU ARE READING
Pink Butterfly
General FictionNobody knows i'm different, That my mother is american, That even though i look chinese, I'm american at heart.
