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 Feb 2020 Brooklyn René
N
You see my brown skin
And assume I'm a ****.

You see my hijab
And assume I'm a terrorist.

You see the smile on my face
And assume I'm happy.

You hear my words
And assume I'm okay.

But I am not.

Instead I am broken.
Yet I am also strong.

I am dark and rule-following.
I am peaceful and Muslim.

You assume based on
Society's POV.

If you smile
You must be happy.

Fox, CNN, any media
Tells you I am a terrorist.
So the names I get called
And the extra security checks
Are extremely upsetting.

The murders of black folk
Is either considered appropriate
Or it's "black on black crime"
So it's not taken seriously.

Who are you gonna believe
Me or those who don't know me?
Dear HP,

This is not a poem
But a question
The answer to which
I do hope you have

Why does my lover claim to love me
But still looks for every opportunity
To let me go?

Is it that she loves me so much
But doesn't think she's worthy of me

Or she doesn't love me enough
To think I'm worthy of her?
candles light up her room
it smells like herbs
and flowers

fall is her favorite season
she enjoys the rain
while dancing trough the woods
barefooted

she's one with nature and the sun
but in love with the moon
everyone's terrified of her
 Feb 2020 Brooklyn René
Natasha
I live in a world all my own
inside my head
through fantasy, I roam.

One of magic, heroes, and might.
One of darkness, clouds, and endless flight.

I could lay in bed and dream my life away
no wish or want for the reality of the day.

Realism pushes through my blinds at sunrise,
reminding me I need to wake,
and live my dull, mortal life.

I depart from my dreams with trembling breath, goodbye.

Until I return to dance with my thoughts at night.
Hiatus is hopefully over! Just a little poem thing. I've been a dreamer since I was a child, always wanting more than the existence life gave me. Lately, I've been watching shows with people with superpowers. I've been trying to decide on what I would want and its between flying, reading and transmitting memories, and ultra-strength and combat skills.
Your existence crippled me,
dripped me with all the love
I will ever need.
Here’s to the feelings that flow
through my veins,

here’s to the love whose trip
was a lot of pain,

here’s to the days
where I am in vain,

and here’s to your heart
that I cant seem to obtain.
**** doesn’t always hide
At parties and outside clubs
**** doesn’t always hide
In dark alleys and empty parking lots
Sometimes it is right in front of you
But you choose to look the other way
**** doesn’t always hide
Behind the faces of strangers in the night
Sometimes it is hiding behind the closed doors
Of your uncles
Cousins
Fathers
And brothers
**** isn’t always loud-
Screaming, yelling, and crying
Sometimes **** is quiet-
Gasping for air and silent tears
Step 1: Get out of bed
Step 2: Look in the mirror
Step 3: Practice your smile
Step 4: Eyedrops to hide the red eyes
Step 5: Conceal the dark circles
Step 6: Breathe
The curtains are almost up
Step 7: Lock down the pain
Step 8: Ignore the weight on your chest
Step 9: Silence the screams inside of your mind
Step 10: Choke down the sobs
Step 11: Ignore the stinging in your eyes
Step 12: Swallow past the tightness in your throat
You’ve put on this show a million times
Step 13: Don’t let them see
Times up. Curtains up. Camera rolling
You know how when you’re not ok but you try so hard to pretend you’re ok that it becomes a ritual
 May 2018 Brooklyn René
Simoné
It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived
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