Grow up Black girl, grow up, grow up
things happened and your mom's not around, grow up, grow up
you live with your single dad so you have to grow up, grow up
you can't do your hair so you show up to school looking a mess, but you don't care
but then you do.
you do care.
you start to hate your hair.
your auntie and her daughter do it when they can, but ppl are busy, they're a little far,
why do you even have this hair at all?
is it a gift? is it a curse? why doesn't it flow like a splendid verse?
Visuals via my Commaful account in the external link: https://commaful.com/play/thougtfuldragon/grow------------------------------------------bl/
Part one of a long, unedited poem series; probably around seven parts written 10:58pm-12:09am June/9-10/2020.
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Mind {Prose Vol. 2}✔
Poetry❝In my mind, there is pain. I am exhausted. I feel defeat from my hair tips to my feet- my body feels the stress weighing down on my shoulders. I try and try every day, but nothing seems to go my way. In my mind, there is pain, yet I try because one...
