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My Long-Awaited Epic Poem! |
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Not too long ago, a stranger happened by,
From a glance, he saw tears sliding down my cheeks,
From my eyes, tears like swollen rivers leaked,
Then he paused, cleared his throat, and asked me why I cry,
With a glistening face and a heavy voice,
I looked him in the eye,
I said, "sir, sometimes I feel I have no choice,
but I will tell you why I cry."
I cry because I hate my nose.
I cry because I want new clothes.
I cry because I hate American places,
like bustling towns with false faces,
I cry because I am not so strong.
I cry for weeks, months, all year long,
For however long until I realize,
just how many truths were lies.
I cry because I'm not that girl,
Not popular, the center of teenage world,
I cry because I hate the stares,
the taunts, teases, and the glares.
I'm not shallow; I'm not dumb.
At school, I'm not worth a crumb.
I cry because my house isn't a shack,
that is located across the tracks,
where personal is just a word,
where closeness is never yearned.
I cry because I hate my skin.
With my own, I don't fit in.
I hate the label of white black girl,
Of one who is queen of everyone's world.
I cry because no one can see,
that I'm weak, the inner me.
I cry because I am young.
"You're too young to do anything fun"
No driving, no parties, no drinking too,
I probably won't get married until I'm 52.
They say I'm young, still a child,
Yet I'm too old to just go wild.
I cry in memory of by-gone days,
of slumber parties and cakes of clay.
I cry because I had no field,
No wide meadow with flowers to yield.
I cry because I could no shout,
to the trees, the stars, to let it all out.
There's just lines of slumbering houses,
who expect a child as quiet as mouses.
I cry as a way to flood my soul,
to lessen my heart of its heavy toll.
I cry for a future yet to come,
when all my friends are gone and done.
One hand waved, all deleted.
When's the next time they'll be greeted?
Without my friends who love me so,
who understand me and let me grow,
How will I live from day to day,
without their presence along the way?
I cry because I love the ones,
who's made my life so much fun.
I cry because I'm not in London,
enjoying tea-time with much more than,
tea and biscuits, cup on saucer,
not having to deal with an American locker.
I cry because I'm not in France,
where romantic men pass me a glance,
as I walk down a busy boulevarde,
sporting brands, bags, and many shopping cards.
Or maybe my tears are due to lackof
Africa's wonderous animal club.
I cry because I cannot see the crocodile
make of passing antelopes a bloody pile.
I cry because I am in The United States,
where lies are common and the taxes are great.
But most of all, I think I cry,
because there's no escaping this lie.
There's one way out, that is what I've found.
One exit; a plethora of people who give no ground.
But even more of the kind who sit back,
the kind who good, the kind who slack.
I cry because I am still waiting.
My Prince will come, but my hope is fading.
There is a castle in the sky,
and he will take me by-and-by.
But how much longer can I wait?
Soon the hour will grow late.
I cry because I fear the dark,
in which his figure haunts, white and stark.
I cry out loud every night.
I cry for him to overcome this fight.
I cry because my very life is hanging in the balance.
I cry because my heart may be overcome by malice.
May he be swift; may danger he miss.
Or stone cold will be the lips he will kiss.
 Para-Para · Wed Nov 10, 2004 @ 09:32pm · 0 Comments |
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