Long Story Short

Me:A little black girl

**Anything in this poem regarding race and color were not ment to offend

Momma always said I was pretty. Honey soaked skin, born from flesh torn twenty times over. My chocolate brown eyes were so sweet, when mixed with the kinky curls we stole from another world that I have yet to see.
Daddy always said I had something special in me, that no one can take away. My future was always brighter than the stars coming together in a cosmic explosion that had torn the universe apart.
My sister had the kindest heart, straight from a birthday card, ready to give love even when you gave her hate.

But

How do I tell my momma that I dont feel comfortable in my honey-soaked sticky skin. So thick it wont let anyone in.

I am trapped.

In my forest of curls, not fit for white girls so they passed this burden to me. Hoping I could save their "pretty in pink", shackle-less world.
How do I tell my daddy that my future looks like the aftermath of the explosion.

Star struck, struck down. Floating in space, I cant hear a sound. So much air, not enough to breathe. I am frozen in my own toxic void.

Can't you see me?

My baby sister. Always with a smile always ready with a hug. How do I tell my little sister I am nothing like the Angel's above?
How do I tell her that her kindness is too much for me today? That I love her and everyone, just not the same way. How do I tell her, with tears in my eyes that I am not ready to fly with the Angels tonight?

I am trapped in my own expectations. I am warped by this new generation. Death is a gift and life the coal.
Santa isn't coming tonight, he said it's too cold. In my cold dead space, where my near dead heart lies.
I'm screaming for help yet no one arrives.

Help

Help

Help?