When Her soft curls were burnt straight with the toxic chemicals, He took the burns upon his skin
When she started to make her beautiful melanin fade, He begun to fade for it was her skin which kept him seen
When they shot her with words of hatred for being the goddess she was, He walked around with the scars as he could not bare to see her hate herself anymore
When she kept quiet instead of proclaiming her thoughts and ideas to the world with the luscious, full lips she was gifted with, He suffocated
When she looked around every corner, pushed by society to become their definition of perfect, He blinded himself for he refused to see the lies
"My darling, my perfect, when you refuse to listen I will not grow angry, when you refuse to see your beauty, I will see it for you" for these words He preached, his only existence depending upon Her
YOU ARE READING
I Preach
PoetryThese aren't poems but declarations of the beauty of "her". In the age of ones beauty being stolen from them and claimed as their own it's harder for "her" to stand out of the crowd. "He" kisses her scars which were once wounds. Skin pierced by the...
