She is a chameleon.

Against white, she is white.
Against red, she is red.
Against black, she is black.
Against brown, she is brown.

But hidden, underneath, she is grey,
Dark pools of grey, tinged with ‘thalo blue,
Wondering where her background is,
Telling her who she is.


About lizardqueen

If single-mothering were a paid job, I'd be rich. However, it doesn't, so I write (which doesn't pay the bills) and teach (which does). I'm overly-educated in the liberal arts, but that doesn't hinder my ability to be pragmatic and realistic. YAY.
This entry was posted in AVOCATIONS, Creative Writing, The Writing Life. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Chameleon

  1. celogo says:


  2. lizardqueen says:

    Ja… me, too.

    I think most people feel this way, at one time or another; and for some, more than others.

    It’s very sad, but very human.

    Oh so human.

  3. celogo says:

    selbst persönlich oft gespürt. S

  4. thelastbassdiaries says:

    Hauntingly familiar feeling … made me shiver …

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