For those hard to love colored gals

My kinky hairDoes not mean I love God.

Or black people.

My dark skin

Does not equate to “woke-ness”.

I can be very much asleep.

My weave does not make me a sheep.

My full hips and large lips

does not mean you can penetrate my innocence.

(For I am innocent)

My non-ivy league degrees does not mean that I’m green.

I’ve seen piss in hallways.

Drove high-class cars.

Closed my eyes and seen God.

Opened them and seen my mother.

I am not your pioneer for the “angry black girl”

Nor am I the poster child for docility.

I am a black woman.

Not a monolith.

I am God’s gift.

In satan’s world.

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