When racism met suicide
Scars fade but trauma doesn't
She wished it was the the other way round
At least then she wouldn't be haunted by the memories
Maybe the cuts wouldn't hurt as much
Maybe she wouldn't have done it at all
Each tear was another cut
Each cut made her numb
She didn't want people to see her cry she thought Her problem solved
Their hateful words echoed in her head
Each word another cut
She wondered if they knew would it be something they'd regret
Or would they harm her more instead
She felt even more frustrated
'Aggressive'
One cut
'Angry black girl'
Another cut
'Her hair is so nappy'
The third cut
What was supposed to be three cuts turned to 4
Until she lost count
Until she didn't know anymore
She was breathless
But euphoric
It was the one time she was in control
She felt it was the only way she could express her pain
Even if it caused her shame
But she felt that the blood spilled would make a change
Maybe If they knew they wouldn't call her names
But she was black
They were white
The system was corrupt
She understood
That Her skin colour
Meant nothing would be done
Only that they would silence her voice
She thought for a while
About what it would be like if she carved a permanent smile
That maybe life would be easier
And maybe they'd leave her
Alone
Or Maybe she could try being invisible
She'd never been suicidal
But the racism had taken a toll
She felt like she was carrying the weight of the world
But she couldn't anymore
So she cut deeper
Until most of her blood spilled on the floor
Her last chance to have control
Her last act of freedom
Copyright © Layla Riley-Hill | Year Posted 2025
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