Melanin Forest

In realms of ink and solitude I dwell, A poet's soul, an ancient tale to tell. Within these words, my heart bleeds sincere, Of being a poet, black and without fear. Like twilight's symphony, my rhyme awakes, A melodic dance, where beauty takes shape. Freely I divulge the thoughts that reside, In realms of darkness where dreams do confide. With every verse that pours from my pen, I embrace the rhythm of my melanin. Words painted in hues of strength and might, A tapestry formed of ebony and light. My voice, a beacon in a world so vast, Telling tales of struggles from the distant past. Through verses, I reclaim my heritage's voice, Each stanza, a testament, a powerful choice. I bleed emotions with every uttered line, Exploring the depths of what it means to be mine. Warrior, poet, at this intersection I stand, Defying stereotypes, breaking each command. From Langston's wisdom to Maya's truths, To Gwendolyn's grace, unyielding in pursuit. In their footsteps, I walk, weaving my own verse, Steeped in resilience, haunted by the curse. But within these words, I find solace and peace, An instrument of change, a path to release. For poetry is a bridge, connecting souls, Celebrating unity, making us whole. As a poet, black, I stand tall and free, Speaking with cadence, embracing my ancestry. Through the power of words, my voice takes flight, A pen, my weapon, against injustice's blight. So let my ink flow, unbounded and true, For my existence, my heritage, and my hue. A poet, black, unafraid to embrace, The beauty within, the courage to chase.