Written on Saturday
05/11/2022
At 08:51
I'm laying down in my nursing home,
Old, weak, brittle, and never warm.
I try to close my eyes to sleep,
But I only see this memory like an insistent beep.
I was 8 years old dressed in my best,
For Sunday church in the west.
But a nigger girl down the street,
Had a blue robe, looking so sweet.
I couldn't take that and went blue with jealousy,
I knew I could ruin her happiness and family.
So, I ran with fake tears in my eyes to tell daddy,
That her brother had forcefully touched me.
A white girl with blonde hair and blue eyes,
He went red with rage and marched to show the boy his demise.
I watched as they burned him alive at the square,
With his family's screams about how that was unfair.
I couldn't find it in me to care,
I just wanted the girl to be aware,
That only I get to wear,
Pretty dresses with no one to compare.
Now, I see that boy every time I look around,
His image clear in my dementia struck mind with his screams so loud.
I can't remember the faces of my children,
But I can even recall his pimples that were hidden.
I have a confession to make,
That a sweet white girl did take,
A black child's life without remorse,
And now she dies drenched in her guilt for better or worse.
#truestory #sadpoem #histroicalevent #oldwoman'sPOV #guiltyconscience #confessionondyingbed #blackchilddyingforvain
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Only Poetry
PoetryIf you're looking for some poetry, you've come to the right place...or book. This is a collection of poems I have written over the years. Some poems talk about bullying, suicide, abuse, etc. so be aware. I hope you enjoy what I write.
