1990 (A poem of mine written 10.7.2011)

1990

 

little fat cheeks,

soft baby powder smelling clothes,

hard bottomed baby shoes,

round button nose,

fluffy afro puff,

chubby curious hands,

shiny eyes wide with awe,

not knowing the worlds cold plans.

Soon her hair will need to be fixed,

its texture is all wrong,

she’ll have to sit at stoves and burn her ears,

and sting from perms left too long.

Her skin will be light enough to be teased,

And dark enough to be scorned.

Her softness will be bruised, scraped, and cut –

Over and over even though she is warned.

Her mind will be filled with a crazed maze of thoughts.

People will call her smart, but weird.  

Shell begin to only trust herself,      

When people arent what they appear.

Her tiny body will be misused and abused,

And lusted before its respected.        

And sometimes shell give away whats priceless so freely,      

And sometimes itll just be molested.         

And she will learn that being free, honest and open     

Will hardly ever be returned          

And she will learn to love the flame that scorches her        

And spend her whole life nursing burns                         

She will cry when she finally finds out the truth        

That Santa, tooth fairies and good are all fake    

And many times over whenever she loves,   

Her little heart will break.        

She will learn to hide what she thinks under sarcasm       

Go through life with defenses like false pride       

She will smile at the world when her heart is in pieces        

And laugh when she just wants to die          

 

I wish I could go back and save her        

Run her through life with a blanket or shield         

Hold her in my arms, rock her and quiet her tears     

And promise her pains will all heal     

But I cant help this little girl who stares out at me    

So wide eyed and so hopeful about life         

I cant tell her anything, cant quiet her fears      

Cant protect her from evil in sight      

 

I drop the faded photograph, look away, too old now to cry       

But my tears are too salty to see.   

I apologize on deaf ears, this is life    

And I can never get back little me.   

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s