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Rose's poems May 2020
How do I stop hurting myself for you
You’re winning, aren’t you
You’re not thinking about me, are you
But I can’t stop thinking about you
I’m hurting myself for you
Is it for you
Is it for what you did for me
Is it for what you did to me
Rose's poems May 2020
I'm sad Benny
The world is sad Benny
Tell me how to help my brothers
Tell me how to help my sisters
Why must some feel dread to leave their homes?
Why must some feel fear to leave their homes?
Why must some be inherently disenfranchised
Stepped on
With knees upon their necks
I fear for our children's future
We know they won't come out as porcelain-skinned as society would like them to be
We know they will struggle
Inherently forced to struggle
What is the solution?
How do we make our daughters and sons feel equal?
How do we protect them from the world?
I want to keep them inside Benny
I fear for what they must face
I want them to stay pure and unharmed
I know this is selfish
I can't hide them from the world's cruelty
They need to face the world in order to better it
We must make it better for them
How do we make it better?
How can we make it better without completely restarting?
Without reconstructing it from its very roots
How do you alter a tree who's roots are already ten feet deep into the soil?
Rose's poems May 2020
I miss your touch but not because you provided it
I miss your attention but not because you gave it to me
I miss you with me
But I don’t miss you
Rose's poems Jun 2020
Oh how I miss when we’d lie on the sand,
Kissing and whispering that we’d always last,
You told me I was your future and held my hand,
So why was she enough to leave me in your past?
Rose's poems Jun 2020
Do you need all the pills, my love?
Who’s place are they taking?

Take me instead,
As much as you want

I’m yours, my love,
Just please tell me they haven't taken my place
Rose's poems May 2020
You say that this country needs to change
That it needs to be reformed
That it needs to be equal
But how do we alter a tree who has been watered with the sweat of our mistreated laborers?
Who grows stronger through the abuse of black Americans
How do we alter a tree who’s racist roots are already thousands of years deep?

If I helped you cut this tree down
Where would his roots go?
Where would we place his corpse?
Would he lie alongside the millions who unjustly died for him?
Or would he be buried higher than his creators
Higher than those who helped him grow and nourished his sick leaves, though his fruits never dropped for them

Isn’t it ironic that those who helped the tree grow don’t receive the fruits of their labors?
The fruits ripen, with the sweat and blood of those who grew the tree
The fruits darken, dripping under the sunlight as his creators did
Yet the fruits still drop at the feet of those most porcelain,
Those who were born to enjoy the tree’s abundance
Rose's poems Jun 2020
Im sorry I pull away when you show too much emotion
“Too much”
Why did I say “too much”
Why do I see it as "too much"
I’m sorry
Rose's poems May 2020
What part wasn’t enough
What part of me
What part didn’t satisfy you
Please tell me
How do I get better
It’s not for you
It’s for me
I don’t want to get better for you
It’s for me
It’s for him
It’s for whoever takes your place
It has to be for me
But why is it for you

— The End —