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White White, Black
White, Black
Puerto Rican, Asian
Native American,
The Original American,
Me.
Who is seen as White as a sheet of paper.
Who cannot dance or talk of deep things.
White has been sealed into a vacuum, wispy like vapors.
Someone who's just a color and has a culture of nothing.
White, not caucausian. White like the crayon that no one uses.
White, one dimensional, trivial, and ultimately superficial.
From what I have heard, White is the winner that never loses.
The ultimate opponent, the one no one can touch, it's become conditional.
As a White woman, I "must" be better.
You probably think I sit and write high and mighty.


The Creator's Game Rain splashed at the wide window. Lightning flashed, brightening up the office, showing the silhouette of a man. Footsteps soon followed, indicated only by the slight vibrations in the floor, since the raging storm drowned out all noise.
Another flash. This time, the man was much closer, and appeared to be heading toward the door. He may have saw me in the flash, though I doubt he could make out my features anymore than I could see his, and instead he merely knew that the safest option was to escape from the mysterious intruder while he still had the chance.
The door opened, and light trickled into the room. I saw his face, old and wrink


Chapter One: A Silver Key CHAPTER ONE: A SILVER KEY
She would keep her secrets lodged in her throat, tucked away behind a silver lock that was one and whole with the fair skin on her smooth neck. The silver keyhole had always been there, resting in the shade of her rounded chin, ever since she was born. Also part of her was a silver key hanging upon the delicate chain that emerged from a minute bit of puckered flesh upon the nape of her neck. When she looked at herself standing before a mirror, she looked as though she merely wore a necklace.
Satu's entire family was just like her. Her mother, her father, her younger brother, and her infant sister all had a silver l
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