CHAINS
It would have been better
If the chains around my neck were gold
So that way I would know that I am at least worth more
Than a stray dog outside; stripped raw of pride
Withering in the cold basement.
My flesh has started connecting to the ground to drop me on
My brain has taken membership in the cold atmosphere
And my hands are strong but my knees are far too ease
Body shaking and weak to the touch of metal
Bare is my back but stripped with a tattoo of bamboo whip
My Hair has grown wild and course
My skin rough and hard but my eyes oh my eyes still fight!
YOU ARE READING
Being The Ugly Black Woman
PoetryBeing the ugly black woman is a poetry book about overcoming past scars that lock you down. It's about embracing yourself as a woman of color and a human being. Realizing yourself as a person of power, confidence and also your weaknesses.finding you...
