A box
I was trapped in a box
A box that was molded by the visible hand of man that told me what I should or should not be
Defined by labels that are still stamped across every inch of my being because of what you say
“She could lose a pound or two…”
“She needs a relaxer!”
“She’s mixed, she is not black!”
Words spill out of your mouth to form useless sentences of ridicule and hate
Haven’t you ever heard “If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say it at all”?
Your words are packed into that box and shipped directly to me
But I don’t want them, return to sender
I realized that I can’t allow others like you to bring me down so I can wallow in self-pity that you create in me
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words sure do hurt and maybe even a hell lot worse
But if I allow these brutalities to seep through my skin, plant that seed of misery, and allow it to fester into something evil,
I’ll be right back where I started
I’ll be trapped
In a box