Get Your Premium Membership


My friends think I'm crazy My mom knows that sometimes I'm lazy And I know that I am dizzy, I can't stand the pressure of being expected to be perfect I am perfectly imperfect I am burning escaping man made hell I am a Messiah that no one believes Not even after making my way through their storms Not even after building an empire out of their stones I am a concrete strong enough to stand for myself My body is a temple I hear their boots' crunch violently running towards me I can't stop running , I am running Running from a world that defines me weak I am running from my body, I'm running from the curves of my hips I am running from the valleys on my chest I wish I could rest, being a woman is not curse It is a race to Victory The truth is, I can't deny being me Dear Mom, culture is a way of life I'm afraid some practices have kept me silent for a while You and I are victims of stigma But mama, help me walk through this desert Help me recycle the gabage made out of your star Help me shine my light

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.