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Jun 2020
I forgot what it felt like
To be burned
The familiar sting of sensitive skin brushed against fabric
All too real for me.
I wonder if she, too, felt pain like this.
Days spent basking in the sun on summer days,
While cancer scrawled upon her skin like a signature.
Sometimes I think she knew what she was doing,
Laying there,
Letting herself be killed,
But surely.
I hope she sees me,
Walking with friends.
Hundreds of us,
Marching for racial equality.
Would she have scoffed at the idea?
Or scolded me for not protecting my delicate shield?
β€œYour heart may armor your conviction,
But it does nothing for your ivory skin”?
But I know,
The lace on my wedding dress may hurt now,
But I will heal.
I cannot say the same for my brothers and sisters of color.
I will not let them lay there,
And be killed.
I received incredibly painful sunburn while protesting police brutality this weekend. If that's the worst pain I am delivered from this movement, I am beyond privileged.
Written by
Lost  20/F/probably my bed
(20/F/probably my bed)   
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