sometimes words slipped out unknowingly.
it was a habit she never had.
for, at a young age, her words had been beaten out of her back,
the bloody screams her sacred language.
so when the words slipped unknowably,
she sister tisked,
new york has changed you,
she said.
her father scowled,
but she look in the eyes.
she was a free lady.
she mother sulked in the corner,
and out of all the judgment
she saw her grandmother smile.
oh how the world was changing.
so she regarded her sister,
i have been taught the ways of freedom.
she shrugged.
america only changed what i knew,
not me.
new_aphrodite
