My name is Lexi Carew,
but I don't know why I've just told you that.
It's not like you care.
Why would you?
I am the wallflower, the carrion fly, the subtle scent of old blood
that makes people gag and grunt and groan.
I am the gentle reminder of an old ache you never want to return.
People see me and they run.
The outsider, that's me.
YOU ARE READING
The Outsiders
PuisiA poetic account of racism in modern day society: shedding light on the situation.
