When you walk into a room and use the manners you've had beaten in you and instilled causing a bruise, and no one bothers to speak back has to be classified as straight up rude.
When my skin bruises it turns the color of purple and blue while theirs may be a darkened red and brown hue...
Does that give you a sense of who I was speaking to?
Who didn't bother to acknowledge me when I was being polite but when I took a seat beside her she then frowned, averting her gaze like I was bothering her sight.
It's alright.
Though I'm the only one in the room who might understand a pop on the hand from reaching into mommas pan while she's cooking, or the constant watching and looking while you stroll through the store, with all intent to purchase and scan.
But how crazy is it that even some people can't stand me and we're from the same roots, the same grain of sand.
It doesn't matter what they say...or how they act,
I'll always know who I am and where I stand.
- Donna
YOU ARE READING
𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭
PoetryA collection of poems and thoughts of a young black girl, expressing herself in a very open and honest way about her experiences and feelings.
