Group 3 – First Prize
Losing Identity
By Anna Xu
Look around, miles of flat field
Stretching into the horizon and beyond
Into a world without fence
But I’m here, in a world with no escape.
Trapped.
I speak like a parrot
Obey as a well trained hound
A rotten tomato disguised as a shoe
Out of place
Forced to fit in.
Dream catchers clasp onto my ill thoughts
Giving me tranquil, dreamless nights
Pity, it couldn’t catch me
Leaving me in brutal reality
A once comforting current carrying countless colours
Now a mere stream of useless blue
Creamy deer hind, cozy coat
Switched to savy jeans and t-shirts
Common rituals, giveaways, rolled into
Weekly Sunday prayers
Slowly that Native Brown fades
And from head to toe I feel
A bleach white silently seeping in
Who am I?