The Musings of Your Average Black Poet

An Untitled Free Verse

Arms straight pressed to her torso, fingers curled

Born into a world full of hate and distain

Some will look at her large round nose

And tangled coiled curly hair with lips curling is disgust

She and body with skin dark as night

Will enter the school with eyes watching her every move

Waiting for her to mess up

To laugh at her

And they whisper and sneer and jeer

Taunting the slang and diction she was taught

And the skin her ancestors worked hard to keep

And they will push her

Push her to her worse

Push her to tears as the bee sting of her scraped knee

Pours out the blood and water her ancestors worked so hard to keep

Inside their bodies as they toiled the fields

And she looked up with the flickering ceiling light

Blaring like the sun

And a pale naked clean hand reached out to her own

And in her hands they placed theirs

And in her hands they placed hope.