When they call it butterflies, what do they mean? A small delicate creature that lands on your arm raising each hair one-by-one as it travels towards your hand. The nervous flutter in your stomach that you can never escape no matter how hard you try. A light floating feeling that raises your cheeks and stops you from coming back down. I don’t know why they call it butterflies. All I know is you give them to me.
The darker the berry the sweeter the seeds plant them because you sow what you reap. My skin is magical you see...for I am a special kind of breed. When I'm in the sun my melanin boils, plus heat is good for my ***** coils. A shade darker I've just became... From honey brown to a cocoa shade. Time to untwist my bantu knots and free my natural fro. The curly crown of victory as my melanin glows. I strut through the grasslands in tune with my inner goddess. My legs are thick and long, so now its time to flaunt this. shaking my hair from left to right & pump my fist in the air. Wish I was alive in the civil rights, but then I wouldn't be hear. People they envy my complexion, they wish they had my perfection. But honestly you can't hate on something God gave. Melanin queen, you reign in the lands. Zion queen, lets do a foreign dance. Melanin runs within my veins and pores. Melanin I love to be, I'm wading in the shores.