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:
Me