Shadow Child

image from literature voodoo

Five pence, Six Pence
Three bags full
I was a penny
But worth more
Than you
You whip at my name
Pour acid on it's ink
Piss all over the Wisdom
I think
And then with burps
You say
It is no common place
To be cruel
And fake,
To hate black skin,
Insult our complexion
I'm sorry my shade
Destroys your erection
But god
He's tired
And worn
Sick of people
Who choose broken and torn
Eat heartbeats
For breakfast
Suck pulses for lunch
Chomp at your brain
Till it's Sunday brunch
This hateful Self
You choose
To be
I am Charcoal
And proud of me
Blessed are the dark ones
Womb of the sun,
Whether they cripple
Or emotions leave you numb
Staggering into a stupor
Of pain and Bliss
Remember your skin
Be proud of this.


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