She has purple hair
She bought a Jesus pen
For some reason
Can't wait to see it
She likes bands
Bands that I actually know
She compliments me
Even though I'm ****
And she's a witch
Who speaks Spanish
Apparently, I can't stop writing bad poetry. Leave me alone.
Decorate yourself with glitter
Pretend you're not a throat slitter
Put on some fancy clothes
Stuff up your rotting nose
Remove the dirt from your oozing toes
Cover up the cuts with pantyhose
Bin the decomposing embryo's
Do what you want,
But what I sup pose
Is that it always shows.
why am i to spend 12 years of my life
learning the same history 12 ways
each year getting more into depth
about how straight, white, and cis,
"all" of history just happens to be
when in reality anything that was ever
deemed abnormal or harmful to america's image
just doesn't get taught.
all these years of being sheltered from the truth
about america the great
has left me with questions i'm scared will go unanswered
I'd like to know which group of old white men
decided erasing history was a good idea
If i'm stuck learning about these so called achievements and revolutions which only came from the self proclaimed superiors
i'd like to know whose idea it was to forget about
The whips cracked in to bleeding black skin
Making it known that my ancestors were no more than a tool
No more than what white men, white masters made them in to
No more than a slave until 1865
I want to know who made it possible for my history teacher to ask me what my opinion on slavery is since i’m the only black kid in sight
When will they teach me why it’s okay for the 20 white kids in my class
To call me their ***** but it’s not okay for me to get mad about it
Please tell me how these people figured out
who all they should kindly choose to silence?
maybe they thought it's too much to cover in class
Since we have to have time to be taught about manifest destiny
And how Americans had every right to take land and lives
Because white men deserve to take what doesn’t belong to them
or maybe it's been deemed inappropriate
because they're too scared to admit
That America would rather hose down black kids
waiting for our skin to become clear and
praying for our melanin to wash off just so they would stop having to look at the skin they deemed sinful
than admit that America loves to make black people fearful.
When are we taught about who chose to write about all of
america's triumphs and good times but
somehow seemed to forget about the scars passed on to me from over 100 years ago
But didn’t know i had until i was ten years old.
And honestly that no longer surprises me i mean
America only speaks of cishet white guys.
and I bet you didn't know about very first *** pride.
It was a series of riots started because America decided
Loving who you want makes you unequal
And the only way to fix that is using force that’s lethal
Force that would leave lovers lives laying in the street like the never even lived
Force that led to June 28th through July 1st becoming riots that didn’t need to happen but the police couldn’t keep their privileged fingers off of *** people
But it’s fine because ignoring that part of history has become an American steeple.
At this point I know all the answers to every test asking about the history you feed us
In attempts to hide the truths of this country that wishes it never freed us
so stop teaching me the same
cis, straight, white history I've already
been taught 10 going on 11 years of my life
because i don't care about the men who wanted to keep my ancestors bound
Or the country that keeps trying to tell me that my love isn’t allowed
i care about the history they'll continue to ignore and erase.
i care about the history America begs me to forget.
I don't know what I did wrong.
Don't yell at anyone for something "I did".
I hope your happy with yourself.
Tearing people apart.
Hurting the ones that care about you.
Turn people I care about against me.
Turning my friends against me.
I hope you are happy.
I hope you make Erica happy.
I hope she knows about how bad of a person you are.
Biting your tongue.
Clenching your fist.
Smoking your ****.
Crushing your pills.
Spreading your lies.
You're a sociopath, I believe.
You can get anyone to believe your twisted lies.
I even got down on my knees for you.
How pathetic was that?
I don't even like you as a romantic or a ****** partner.
My lips touched yours.
I touched the devil's lips.
I felt the devil's warm embrace.
I guess he is called the devil for a reason.
About a frenemy. A yucky boy.
There is only 30 minutes to get this right
She sets the paper down in front of me
Inhale then exhale I tell myself
I look over the test it is all multiple choice
My least favorite kind
My heart starts beating faster at this
Inhale then exhale I tell myself
I try to circle in as many of the right answers in the next 20 minutes
I can do this!
Just Inhale then exhale I tell myself
Oh no! Everything is starting to go blank now
It feels like all the knowledge is starting to slowly seep out my brain and leak from my ears
I sit tight and close my eyes
Inhale and exhale
The questions do not make sense anymore
Is it B or D
I erase my original answer and began to second guess myself
The pencil shakes in my hand
Inhale and Exhale
I give my eyes a quick rub and read the questions one more
No that's not right Its D not B
i try asking
how i could possibly be in love with you
i try to tell myself
your words can burn
and your beauty is only there
if i let it be
but my mind
makes flower petals
out of your sentence fragments
and my eyes
see you as if
and i can't ask
how i could possibly be in love
because my mind is
stuck in the same song,
a chorus proclaiming
"how could i not?"
pillows of wind, freezing the minuet dew drops on each blade of grass,
tiny ice goblets
dutifully every morning.
it whistles, slipping between
the barren trees,
curling around the crumbling houses
built in the '70s
a time when,
they may have kept us sheltered from Mother Nature's ghastly wrath.
whispering against the window panes, creeping past the glass frames.
icy hands claw their way across the floor, up the bed posts
beneath the sheets.
gliding cold fingers up my legs,
down my spine. wrapping themselves around my neck,
the fire in my eyes has died.
sweet release, a gradual fading light.
my heartbeat slows,
though inches away,
warm & unaware you lie.
boney tendrils squeezing
as I drift to my glacial demise.