I’ll go back to writing my love stories.
I’ll go back to writing what makes your hearts happy and content.
I’ll let you in on all of my downfalls and disappointments.
I’ll show you how I managed to mend.
But don’t you ever, for one second,
let out a sigh of relief because my last post was so short.
Don’t you get to thinking that “Yeah, she’s an angry Black person, but she’s a COOL angry Black person,” because I’m not.
I am a woman standing at the center of intersectionality with her fists up and mouth wide open,
screaming that “BLACK LIVES MATTER” at the top of her lungs.
A woman who strives to increase her intellect and lessen her ignorance.
A woman who aims to invigorate and inspire.
I will tell you that there is no man that can hurt me more than the harsh reality of society has.
It has resulted in the type of trust issues an old flame could never create,
because this nation never loved me.
Don’t exit out just yet,
the poem is over now.
You can stop feeling annoyed
(not that you should be anyway).
There is no need to,
when White Privilege calls your name.
Poet: Stefanie Parrott