Misunderstood
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 © Little John Kazadi | Year Posted 2021
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