My friends know me as the token black girl.
Not that I am the only black girl in the group.
But the only one with natural hair, afro centric earrings, a fistful of pride raised high, and a heart that beats right out of my chest and into my stomach.
My friends know me as the token black girl.
With five letters in my name and A, R, R, Y, N with no last name because I refuse to carry the burden of the lady who left me without a chance to say goodbye, and a woman who left me countless of times without saying a word, but rather overlooking the fact that the adoption was real, and not a dream, and a 5 year old child had to pay with food with leaves because your lazy ass would not get up to feed me.
My friends know me as the token black girl.
Rather than wear on my sleeve, I wear my heart on my thigh so that every time, I sit down to pee it stairs me plainly on my face to try to get me to see that the anger that is inside of my needs to be free when all I have every wanted was a hug from Tenise.
They say the most beautiful people are products of broken home.
My friends know me as the token black girl.
That will only drink water, because of the paranoia that the government has put something in my soda, to make me feel like the rush of blood going to my head is alright.
So they locked me away in a room with white walls, no TV’s and a bullet proof window. They took my shoe laces for fear that I may hang myself. But im scared of heights, but the depression is so low that I feel more closer to the devil, than the savior.
My friends know me as the token black girl.
The poetic lyrics that spew from my lips, so much that I want to tape my mouth shut, and cut off the oxygen.
See when I go through things, I tend to embellish in another piecing,
At least my pain won’t go without beauty.
My lip was my father’s death, my web was a broken heart, my cartilage was and absentee mother, and my tragus was suicide.
Another Dickinson, publish me after my heavily journey.
My friends know me as the token black girl, with an irreplaceable smile, that blinds you from the emotion that only a crowd of strangers know, the fear that haunts me at night, so I lie awake.
My friends know me as the token black girl.
With the pride in myself that I will not allow anyone to define my sexuality, I like what I like, and I leave it at that but when my foot crosses the threshold of my home it is a different story.
My friends know me as the token black girl, but rather than be justified and circumcised to the standard which is held by society.
Crew your opinions im just trying to find me.