February Ninth

Waiting on a windowsill 

Was all my ambitions

Waiting on a windowsill

Was the desire to be free

Envying the windswept feathers of the passing birds

How dare I ask for more

Was I not allowed to step forth 

Me and my one victory

Ending with two fails

I am still grateful

I am still able to find

the silver lining in a blacked out sky

I am a warrior

A queen

A black girl so magic

The outside world is so uncomprehensibly mundane 

The chains on wrists

Mind to big to fit this flesh and bone

No one understands

My language too real to steal

To extinguish

I am trying 

to help you see

This poem is about: 


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