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The World Through a Black Girl's Eyes
It’s nights like this I sit and think and I wonder…what’s wrong with me?
Why can’t I be accepted by society? And not hated for just being me?
I don’t know how to change or be any different!
I want to be considered beautiful and not indifferent
We all know how society sees me
In the model world a size 6 is fat so tell me, what is my 14?
Why is it that I can’t look good in my jeans…
…or my skin
I feel as though the skin I’m in defines me
And the mouth I speak from shouts muted words because…
No one cares about uttered words from
A little black girl…
With weave down her back and a smile on her face
It doesn’t matter if she has a pretty face
They see hips and a gut and think…what?
They don’t understand and no one will…
Crying at night and wanting to change,
Nobody wants to feel that pain
We all want acceptance for being who we are
But life destroys us, and they wonder why our generation doesn’t make it far…
Killing ourselves and starving ourselves and being hungry for acceptance
Why does it dwindle down to being clowns with makeup plaster on our faces?
I am saddened by the sights I see…
Walking into a high school bathroom and seeing blood all over the floor
A girl lying there saying over and over again that she can’t take it anymore
Why is it that we all can’t be beautiful?
Why does that fat on my face or the size of my waist affect my personality?
Why do I have to struggle to make it and try harder to break it because of my nationality?
I sit and I rant, or some say complain, about the way the world is
But I only want some change and a little bit of range if this is the world I have to grow up in.