Poetic State Of Mind


She clipped off her wings and she let go,

Ready to fall and embrace a world full of antagonism,
She was a victim of constant ridicule and countless pessimistic opinions,
She only wanted to be remembered for her givings,
Was never into winnings, only winning she was into was for her peoples uplifting,
For her craft to touch souls who wanted to give in,

A rose that grew out of her mothers sidewalk concrete, who would have imagined though?
No fatherly support because he was shameless bastard i.e. a “thot”,
Thoughts of what could have been if she ever met him face to face,
A love hate, she wanted answers but at the same time she was full of anger,

This pretty bird simply wanted to be what Yaa Asantewa was to the Ashanti’s, what Rosa Parks was to black American queens, what Edith, Vanessa and Asantewaa is to poetry,
Revolutionary she had it tatted on her heart indefinitely,
But she stares adversity in the eye,
The demon that births pride and cripples your momentum when you’re on a mission to reach further heights than the sky,

You and I know very well she was made for this,
Your negatives are just undeveloped images trying to distort her actual perspective,
She will not be affected, just remember this,

Her body constituents are not just of a skin rich full of milk and honey but of grits and guile,
The fire in her belly is like a molten lava ready to combust explosive energy,
She’s ready,

So what was once a foetus growing steadily to formulate from a seed to a plant, has stretched out its branch, that rose flower is ready to blossom into this world, and dance its way into your memories,
Believe it when she says…you’ll never forget me…



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