I'm laid out on some dirty concrete floor screaming, and then whispering so softly that I'm dying internally. Clutching the hem of your shirt because I know you're going to go away as soon as you figure out how messed up I am. But I'm looking at you, looking up and crying ugly tears and begging you to stay because I need some sunshine in my life. And I'm hoping that you won't do me like other people and leave because I'm like dark cloud looming over you. I know you'll leave, but I'm dying internally and I've had this feeling since I was old enough to know what feelings are. So, you see, this can't go away with one of your pep talks because this has been a life time thing for me. An on-going battle. A melancholy reverie. And I'm not trying to pull you down, but I want you to be the one to stay and help me up because if I stay here a few years longer then I'll surely die and there won't be any saving me then.
Can you stay with me? Please?
YOU ARE READING
Nappy-Headed
PoetryCall it prose. Call it poetry. Call it hastily written words. Whatever you call it...enjoy it. Be saddened by it. Learn from it. Embrace it. Bask in it. These are words written by one woman for all women. You're beautiful. Smile. There is someone...
