she's just a
small town black girl
living in a white world
with dreams too big
and space too small
to carry them
wanting to be seen so bad
but only ever noticed cause
her hair is big and all over the place
wonder how my hands would feel
stuck inside this maze
she speaks like me
but her looks are from far away
the kind of place we see on TV
where everything and everyone seem dirty
she seems nice and her friends are white
she must come from a proper family
probably found in a dumpster crying at night
by a young couple in love full of naivety
nevertheless
you can never be too weary with her kind
follow her around in the shop
why is she taking her time?
can she even afford this top?
she made herself tiny
tiny enough to fit into
the place they made
and she never took
more than they could tolerate
she walked along the walls
and kept her head down
tried to smile when they made her fall
come on laugh it's a joke
why are black people
always so susceptible?
and one day she saw
that her quietness would always be too loud
that she never had been part of the wallpapers
more like a gigantic piece of art
that doesn't seem to fit with all the others
what's the point?
in trying to disappear
in trying to fit into their mold
her scalp burnt with chemicals
just to turn these beautiful curls
into something broken, but malleable?
letting strangers touch her hair without asking
as if she was a little dog waiting
for a good scratching
after too much tongue biting
when they crossed the line with their comments
invaded her space like frenchmen discovering
what they called new lands
she got fed up of bending
in a place that she called home
but thought she could never belong
she decided to stop hiding
and tiptoeing
she turned what felt like a cage
into something resembling a castle
started living on her own terms
fighting instead of shying away from battle
crushed her shame like stepping on a pile of worms
from now on
she'd speak louder than others
to move the air around
to break down the barriers
she had put up on her own
when finally she let
the blood of her ancestors
fuel the purpose behind her existence
she became a creator
a reality-bender
and it finally all made sense
she's just a
small town black girl
living in her own world
with dreams never too big
and a space
that she always deserved
YOU ARE READING
In Lieu of Flowers
PoesíaIn Lieu of Flowers let me offer the heaviness of the words my voice can't carry - would appreciate criticism or comments, & feel free to ask & I can read your stuff too🤍- sometimes it's about fucking, sometimes it's the nostalgia of an unhealthy c...
