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When they failed black kids without homes
Her hair stood out
Reaching for the skies
Wishing on every star at night
Someone would hear her cries
Her need to have a life she doesn't just have to survive
The chaos of hair confused
Unsure how to keep it or what to do
She is the only one in the room
That had hair that flew
Just a child without guidance
From the loving hand of a mother who shared the skin she knew
She wondered what it felt like to be wanted
All she had known was a house so haunted
Not by ghosts
But by the loneliness that comes with being different
She had always questioned if it was normal to always feel exhausted
Or maybe that just came with the cost of her skin colour
She despised her skin
Not because of her blackness
But of her inability to fit in
She was already a foster kid
No life experience, no innocence
Just constant rejection
And the heavy weight of being black
In a sea of white kids
And everytime adults came to adopt one of the children
She knew she'd never be chosen
After years of hoping
It would die slowly
At their faces of recognition, quickly turned to disgust
Years passed, the girl grew
Not like the blooming of a new flower in spring
But by a system who never gave her choice
The punishment of a life hardened by a lack of love
She didn't bloom, it was adaptation to the world she lived in
That was until she broke
Had enough
Branded unadoptable
The last one standing
Should've been a victory
Instead She was coated in misery
She never left her foster house
The other kids were freed
From a life of captivity
They would always tell her to hang herself
To hang from trees like her ancestors did
So she took their advice to leave
Saddened by a life she could've has if only she'd been born differently
She had always wanted out of that house
She just had to sacrifice her body for that
Although her body trapped
At least her soul was free
The tragic life of a black girl who just wanted be loved wholeheartedly
Copyright ©
Layla Riley-Hill
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