When I was seven all I ever wanted,
Was white skin, long hair,
No tummy pretty face.
Best grades, that I had.
No friends, eh too bad.
But then time pushed me forth.
Into fourteen,
A belly showed.
My skin I couldn't crawl out of,
Not ebony, nor chalk.
Somewhere in between.
But hey some things I can't control.
Who needs grades when I got,
These friends and no chores.
And then eighteen,
Stuck with me.
The belly never left,
Unlike myself.
Somewhere in time,
With people I knew.
But my hair finally grew.
Maybe something I can do.
And today I stand,
Nothing like I wanted to be.
Some things you can't control,
Most things though for me.
And yet I wonder if,
This he saw.
Dark skin, pot belly,
This hair curly,
Only thing I got barely.
Would he want to grow up,
That seven year old.
To be nothing like before,
A stranger to myself.
YOU ARE READING
Often confusing
شِعرSecond part to a muses musings because wattpad has a story limit. . . I mean an enthralling book of stories
