By Arcassin Burnham

Those cold days,
Swear I'm never going back to that,
when I was doing everything to get my life
Back in order,
Turning 18 and swinging sticks at alley cats,
And those kids say they hate me well imagine
That,
Those broad days,
Where I wish I never woke from my naps,
Putting all that is at stake to perform a better
High,
Sometimes disgusted at fact that I was even black,
I was a cool and chill kid that didn't need a swag,
Forget first kisses,
You had your wishes,
You didn't mention,
To submission,
No honorable mentions,
You didn't listen,
On the ****-list,
All of your desires,
All of your feelings,
You were gifted,
But you just waste it,
Nothing is pleasant.

Judgments everywhere
Criticisms you must bear
The wicked chuck you with hatred
Keep in mind, you are sacred.

Dejection and rejections
Standards set in magazines and televisions
From painful yet glorious birth
Why measure one’s worth?

Allow it not to scar your mind
Nor the voices blind
Wear the strength in your skin
Free the radiance within.

For He lavished you with gifts
His love uplifts
Behind the scene or on stage
You are beautifully weaved in His image.

-a.g.