Locked tight curls
Life is hard growing up in two distinctive worlds. Intentions to reach the depth of an individual’s soul- Is not quite the usual. Especially when we are conditioned to distinguish by the hues of skin Every now and again those words slap hard against my ears, “That’s why your Mommy is white” At the time I did not consider it such an insult… Nor do I now- Just thought she was a foolish child… Oh how, she hated me for it… Her and many others with her like mindedness. My mind is not even of an American white… It’s more of an European Anglo… I am not hip; I never learned to use the lingo My color is inviting… Connecting and uniting… At least until my pronunciation dance with confidence to their ears… Oh, she’s not a typical Negro… Invitation rescinded. To either of them, I don’t belong An island of my own.
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