Jamaican
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Crattled little baby
Not enough to change diapers
The list goes on, luckily it was hyper
Eagerly to jump to oppurtunities were their was none
elevated from the oppresion that it have won
We are black,
The bridges extended to the other side
And obstacles were placed in our path to go across,
Yet we still made it to the shores and over the borders,
Our shoes approached the welcome mat
My mother was a white womanbut a woman, all the same.
For years, I never thought much of white womenIn fact, I didn’t think of them much.
Dear ears that are listening, and eyes that read me wrong.
No I am NOT the black girl "video vixen" that throws it back to the beat of every song.
