Cute, plump, red brown skin, and sweet

Light brown eyes and lips like honey 

A/B Honor Roll, God bearing young woman. 

No jokes. Nothing is funny. 

Go to school.

Participate. Graduate.

Stay a virgin, get married, then have three kids.

Work the usual hours from 9 to 5.

Happy hour, type every hour, waste my Life.

 

Maybe with that beautiful brown skin and plump behind, she can become someone's baby's mama instead of wife.

Have five kids, instead of three and get a surplus amount of EBT

But that's not Kwani, 

No, that's not she.

She is destined for greatness, poverty isn't her cup of tea.

 

She cooks, she cleans, she is the bees knees for her mommy and daddy.

Kwani does  what she is told, Kwani does what they please.

Kwani would never stoop so low, Kwani would never become the average teen.

 

Cute, plump, firey brown skin, and savory

Mischief full light brown eyes and lips spicy not sweet.

A/B Honor Roll, Ptah-hotep believing young woman,

Always jokes, everything is funny.

Go to school, participate, graduate.

Not a vigirn, will get married, have two kids.

Cherry doesn't care about the world.

Cherry cares about success.

Cherry will not work the usual hours from 9 to 5, but Cherry will be 

the Best.

Cherry is caught up in a dilemma, mind over matter,

On what she should do with herself and if it even matters.

It's a trivial privilege that controls her insainity if being sane.

Being the mournful optimist she is, Cherry is out for fame.

 

Kwanasia has always have had to be on other the other; Kwani or Cherry.

Never Kwanasia, never who she wants to be.

The person that Kwanasia is, is me

I am an Honor Roll student, exquisite and unique.

But I am mischevious, I am freee. 

And these thoughts that I have seem to condem me!

It seems no matter where I look or what I seem to think, it is always the wrong thing.

Feelings that I have inside me boil, controling me and causing controversy within me.

And in my mind, I am lost, the cool facade that I keep is exactly incomplete. 

I don't know where I am going in Life, I don't know everything. 

The things that I know are based on the thoughts of my insanity.

Sanity, insanity,

insane with my sanity because who I am is neither Kwani or Cherry.

I'm Kwanasia, a mix between who people want me to be, who I think I am and who I want to be

I fool myself into steadfastly holding on to the mental picture that I have of myself.

Because I am supposed too.

 

Whom is behind the curtain, Kwanasia?

Kwani or Cherry?

Please tell me, Kwanasia!

I am drowning, dieing to see,

to know!

Can you tell me, Kwanasia? 

The things that I gather is that I do not know myself.

I do not know Kwani nor Cherry.

"Well, Anonymous," Kwanasia says to me, "I can not show you what is behind the  Curtain.

I am Naked."