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May 2016
One day I woke up in the middle of a train station that belonged to a city I never even been to. And when I pulled apart the curtains that covered the windows to my soul. I saw this girl standing over me. She had on my mothers smile l,she had my sisters eyes,she was wearing this perfume called 1620 and the scent reminded me of a slave ship. She had middle passage stamped to her back, a noose around her neck and a shackle still dangling from her left wrist. I grabbed her by the arm whispered in her ear, I said "Sweetheart no one escapes history." See our ancestors they had wings like butterflies and we are tornados on the other side of the planet disconnected to our story and this girl she wears the generation Gap like she bought right next to Banana Republic. I found this poem in the basement of her self esteem, it was mounted to the wall right next to her ethnic background as if they were both hunted before. She wears these coats made with the skin of black men that have found her attractive, she shoots them down like LAPD,she's the KKK's stunt devil. A menstrual show turned upside down, with a white face, lip gloss, and UGG boots. She's a blonde hair,blue eyed, black girl praying for lighter skin. She tells me that she is so ******* tired of being ugly. And I know, I knew that she was drunk on the Molotov cocktails that the media has thrown through her eyelids. Deep down inside really, I wanted to blame it on the alcohol but when she said those words I felt like she stabbed me in the chest with a sharp shank made out of her broken heart. I felt like she sliced my throat with the jagged edges of her shattered dreams, I was hurt and it took everything in my power to try to hold back the tears but they were stronger than me. My eyes,felt like 300 Spartan soldiers trying to hold back the Persian army. That day, yo that day I cried for her. I cried so hard, that my eyes bled three frozen lakes and gave birth to the coldest winter ever. Despite my mixed emotions, despite our differences I still spread my branches as far apart as I possibly could and offered to keep her warm but she said.......she looked at me an said.....I would much rather die.
Written by
Dakar Tate
482
 
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