She’s her hair, without it she's bald.She’s too loud, we’ll call her ghetto.She’s not depressed, she’s just lazy.She’d be prettier if she were lighter.She’d be beautiful with straight hair.What do you mean she likes women?Surely she knows that's unacceptable?Especially in the house of the holy.No, I will not refer to you by your “pronouns”.
You were born a woman, it will stay that way.No. You can’t wear this it’s too grown.I don’t want to hear your grandmother.“Black girls aren’t my type sorry”.“I like black girls yeah, like lightskins and mixed girls”.“Wow, you’re actually intelligent.”I hate these call outs.


This poem is about: 
Our world


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