My skin is kind of sort of brownish
Pinkish yellowish white.
My eyes are grayish blueish green,
But I'm told they look orange in the night.
My hair is reddish blondish brown,
But it's silver when it's wet.
And all the colors I am inside
Have not been invented yet.
Human beings are like perpetually incomplete paintings. Some of our colors, or qualities, have yet to be developed! We invent new inner colors when we formulate new opinions and are influenced by new ideas, and we can even change some of our outer colors by dressing differently or getting a hair dye job. People are always changing and evolving as a group and individually, and that is what makes us beautiful. The speaker of the poem could be anybody, and that is ok, because everyone has a message worth hearing.
Colors