Having these thoughts
Of why?
Why do I have to publicize myself as ****?
So a boy can sweep me off my feet?
So I can have thousands of followers,
Who tell me all the time I look beautiful
With all these
false lashes, fake weaves, cake on my face
Why is this beautiful to you?
And why am I shamed if I don't do it?
I'm sorry if I'm "old school",
But I'll happily prance around in your long t-shirts.
Make up free,
Wind kissing my scalp as my natural hair blows free,
Sun radiating off my skin,
Melanin issued by the Gods.
Thank the Gods I'm just me.
Carefree, eventually.
Until then I'm part one versus part two.