When Them Cannot Be Me

When them cannot be me
And when me can never be them,
I have tried many times
To squeeze into their narrow minds,
But there is only room for them
And people who look like them.
I tried to change my appearance,
But no chance—
My accent will hand out
My country's flag.
They adore my food
And ask for the recipe
To please me.
But when they are around their people,
I become that odd piece
Of another puzzle,
Dropped there by mistake.
They find it strange
When I use my hands to talk,
When I clap my hands loudly
At ceremonies.
They get frustrated
When I use my hands to eat
Instead of fork and knife.
But this is the way
I enjoy my food.
I wash these hands
Before every meal—
The same hands I use
To prepare the food
They love so much.