I feel wasted ---
Stuck in a toxic environment my judgement has been affected by this ignorance that floats above my head
My true identity at stake I try to swim & fish out what's real & fake
Nauseated.
The ideal "black girl" makes me sick to my stomach I have never fit into your box of a "bad bitch"
These trends make me itch I feel like a crack fiend begging for some help & some guidence
Place me in a rehab with other chicks just like me
Tryin to regain their sense of originality & self being
I once was above now I sit with the rest of you
But I'm still better than any "harajuku barbie" or a "gutta bitch" because no matter how hard you try to drown me in your booze of this cheap product of black culture I know that I'm still me on the inside
& this intoxication will subside
I am what you desire only because you hate...
Where inside of you do you rely on fate?

poem poetry self identity wasted originality

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1. this goes hard

   - shaydedgray 04/04/10, 4:06PM PST