Who has turned into a shape shifter Twirling 360 to match an unfitting robe I have worn for ages that never fit on A clay thing carved so special, But here I am Embroidering 'I' as the smooth skin of a chameleon.
Dear I
That has twisted my body to dance to a beat that never rhythms As I have found solace in the world of architecture A design by myself Was it the negligence or mockery Or yet, the stereotype that has carved my name on its wall
Dear I
Who has given into a path of shame Like a black girl dead, In a foreign land And scared to stare into that foreign eye That had stripped her with his craving deep blue eyes Without permission! What if a black girl knew; her sweet lips could scare him away.
Dear I
That now plays hide and seek with anxiety But because it is the sole friend the soul had seek Truth or Dare had became a routine And yet, this plague called depression now seeks a ' dare ' To write a letter to myself And say ; how much I have abducted in my heart.
