First I was born,
Then I was cut,
Into pieces, parts.
Separated, branded,
Marked.
White, female, Jewish – stamped.
And so, I'm stuck,
In this, existence
With these pieces,
With these stamps.
Even if I vary,
It will never be throughout.
I can never scrub it off,
The mark.
There would always be a trace,
Of before,
Piece,
And stamp.