Wear these jeans they say.
Hold me down as you force these clothes my way.
Hiding the real me.
Let me bear my wings and breathe.
So tight. So close. No light. Fear for, my life.
We rose up for equality but these invisible shackles they place on me are as heavy as the ones my ancestors wore but not with glee...
These invisible guns to our head telling us to not speak or it'll be our heads.
These vines, chats, and grams have us tangled in a jam.
We can't escape they say...this is our fate.
Swore to the eternal dammed lake.
Backhand equality is what we receive and not just my people there's other that also suffer those dreaded black jeans...
When will we ever be free?
YOU ARE READING
little women poems
PoetryJust about a girl from Upstate New York. Little snippets from her life... Things she's experienced Not only looking from the outside, in.
