“Yellow on the outside, white on the inside.”
Only I’m not even particularly yellow on the outside.
What is this brown hair? The porcelain skin?
What’s with the constellation of freckles on my left cheek?

No, scratch that,
Let’s try something else, an omelet, perhaps.
But surely that’s not right.
How can “yellow on the outside, yellow on the inside?” possibly apply to me?
Someone who speaks Cantonese with an accent, someone who won’t eat “weird food”?
A girl who prefers Starbucks to bubble tea, burgers to ramen?

Nay, nay, it cannot be.
The details, the fine print, it just isn’t me.
Well, if I’m no Omelet,
Then surely I may be vanilla yoghurt.
But wait---“white on the outside, white on the inside”?
That doesn’t sound right.
The affinity for rice, the love of badminton, it just isn’t so.

Then if I’m no banana, omelet or vanilla yoghurt,
What am I, really?
Scrambled eggs? Lemonade? Saffron rice?
I’ve never liked any of the above.
Scratch out the foodstuffs, the labels,
I think I’d rather just be me.