I cry when I fly
I fly when I'm high on ecstasy
I leave in a world where to be black is to be cursed. Deprived for being different and the only comfort is to become the "first black"
But how would I?
When the Lulaby of my mother's sinking heart isn't enough to keep me safe at nights where the sky shines brighter than the 4th of July
It's certain that my future is uncertain,when I don't seem to fit anywhere with anyone and everyone but a feet ahead an aimless gun at nights where the clouds hide the moon at times when she wants to send kisses to her lover.
"how many times I ask,how many times shall I call your name"?
YOU ARE READING
Roses of Sharon
PoetryHow should one begin to introduce such a collection of riddled poems? Well,read following thoughts "painted in words" are cries, ideologies that demanded to be shared. Each unique in it's own way. Some a tainted with sorrows and wonders,some...
