Where do I stand now
The past plays effect on the future.
The day’s seem long.
The continuous repetitive cycles.
Questioning my every move...
A black women.
I am a jinx. I will never be good enough to survive alone.
Never be granted the oppurtunity of freedom, unless I flock towards the light at the end of the tunnel foreshadowing death.
Born and raised in Southern Africa, yet
treated and catered to at a lesser standard of care than the mice that lay 10 ft away.
My ankles swollen and bruised.
My beauty a curse.
Bereaved of paleness i stand as evil to the pure.
My ethnicity a shade overwhelming the effects of the suns heat.
A strong believer:
Why would God sacrifice a selection of his children, only to suffer the scars of resurrection.
In order to converse with me, you must imagine a drained soul in figure.
My spirit floats around in the night air,
masters taunt me, laying afloat in my daydreams: nightmares.
Hostile, he told me as his bitch I must submit.
He told me he’s my worst night mare, yet still
he prayed before touching me.
“Dear lord” he says “ though I walk through the valley of death, don’t let this negro misinterpret her worth”.
Stephanie Robinson
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