A Black Woman's Pain
Black blood running waist deep. It hurts so bad, I can not speak. I wanna crawl up into a ball and forget about all this pain. Why did he take so much of me in vain? Crying out from the inside, free me can anybody see me? Look at me for who I really am, A women, who turned a boy into a real man. Who would think we would ever end. Black girl where did you go? Traveled to a place, no one will ever know. It's lonely and frustrating down here, where I am, damn that's it I lost my only friend. Who was he ? Did he really get a look at, who I was or who I could be? No, he wanted no woman or her pain. I don't think this will ever be the same.
Pain oh pain, you have a way of brushing up on me, so quick I better think this over or I'm going to be sick. Sick from breathing so many bad mistakes, and the shoulders I cried on turned into a lot of snakes and fakes. Blank, there goes my mind; skin quivering, my legs get to shivering. I lost my train of thought. No more late night or early morning conversations. I still miss him telling me, I love that you look so peaceful in your sleep. When he was there, my heart always did miss a beat.
Sweating from the thoughts of us is often a sweat bath. I miss the way he made me laugh. This pain is from a black women who bleeds the same as you do. It's over, there is no more me plus you. I guess you could say it's better this way. I pray three hours during the day, asking God please take this black woman's heart and turn it into a sun-ray.
Look out world, I'm back again making my nights into days, taking all my pain and turning it away; Loving who I am and the things I can now see; I never needed any man to be all I can be- Black, beautiful, and free. Those are my plus ones. I forgot to mention I'm never looking back. I'm running to victory. Thank you black blood for finally making a place for me. I can now see who I am, because black blood was in me. Pain no more not this time, you did not win. I chewed you up and gave you away.
I won't ever know that pain again; I win, I win. Red over black was a fight to the end. My blood is red, black blood now dead.
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Mute Voices: Spoken Word
PoetryEven an unheard voice, has a story. And the story of the mute, holds the passion of a spoken word writer. A collection of poetry, that holds a powerful voice. #52 Spoken Word 7/4/2021