Your neighbour might not look it
But she's as much a cocktail
As I am, in this foreign land.
She's white, like you
And I'm brown
But we're both of so many hues
Inside.
We're both streaked
With the trails of our experiences
Changed unalterably
By all we've been through.
I might not look like you
But on some days, we might be more alike
Than you could ever imagine.
I sound different
But maybe my words resonate with you
I smell different
But perhaps, my thoughts have a familiar fragrance
We do share 99.9% of our DNA after all.
We're all cocktails
Shaken and stirred by a million things
But I'd like to think -
We're all someone's signature drink.
(Note: Living in a foreign country makes you think about the vast differences in our appearances and cultural backgrounds. So this isn't about racism, per se, but rather a commentary on why it's so hard to think of common ground between, say, a 45-year-old Tunisian mother, and a 19-year-old American teenager.)
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