What is my eye colour?
Do you think I do not see you clear?
Shutting us out.
Playing at a fools’s game.
-Ain’t it a crying shame?
What will you do when we are all gone?
Who will it be to scratch out next?
Could it be thine own son?
For we all flock to sunnier shores,
I have been known,
Your hatred has been shown,
His eyes see much,
But not reciprocation of my sisterly love.