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The wound that never heals but continues to grow
Skin broken cannot be repaired
Healing is possible but trauma stays their
Invisible to those with a privileged eye
Visible to those who still ache and cry
Skin will cover what the heart won't show
A pain felt by those who know
What it was like to be named ghetto
Time can heal but what if it don't
When the glue that holds isn't strong enough
Not through strength
But being constantly poked
By those who want the cracks to be loathed
Those who want the mirror of perfection to be uncloaked
To be released from insecurity invoked
So they aren't the only ones who are broken
Inferiority they won't accept
Partnered with jealous to remain 'perfect'
By colonisation and cultural theft
They can't be seen with any weakness
They wear their pride with their chest
Being less than black - the blueprint
Is something their fragile ego won't let happen
So instead their hatred is something they project
Because even though we are the foundation
They will claim the structure instead
To convince a world they are the architect
The ones who created the blueprint
When in reality it was us who birthed the project
Instead of accepting their jealous feelings
They decided accountability is something they couldn't associate with
They felt it would be more appropriate if history was whitewashed
Copyright ©
Layla Riley-Hill
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