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The Life of a Teenager
Blind
Can you find the girl right under your nose? She’s crying for you, out to you but you turn your back like she’s nothing more but washed up trash.
Can you see the girl searching for a home? A place where her tears can dry up and her heart is warmed?
All she wants is a way out? A way in? A way of not letting the monsters touch her Carmel skin and her African roots, a way of not having venom pierce her unwrapped spirit?
Can you feel this girl screaming, cutting, scratching, beating, starving and numbing the pain? Trying to find a way to reach through the soil’s surface and grab the core of her mother’s breath?
Where is the little girl you knew? The one you loved/craved for/wanted/needed?
Can’t you see that she is gone, forever not to return?
Can’t you se her adolescent form hurting? Begging and crying for you to unravel her cracking chipped mask? As she bleeds the love you have for her on the floor, wondering where the hell you could go.
Can you see that the one standing in front of you and the one who used to stand in front of you are the same but different? The same girls born together but separated at birth, locking hands and swearing to keep each others secrets?
This little girl has died she was poisoned with pharmaceutical lies and run over with tired battered, criminal lines?
You can’t help the girl who already has life’s needles in her arm, feeding off the damaging drug of the world, as it takes her down and drags her to a place others dared not to go?
You can’t stop the girl from giving away her body to the many men who feed off of her who use her.
You can’t stop the sickening thud this girl commits with every single jump.
You can’t stop the flood of tears this girl's vagina bleeds every night.
You can’t stop the killing of the little girl in side her heart. The one you loved/craved for/needed/wanted.
Because you can’t even tell the difference from missing and gone
Because you're too afraid to except the truth that the little dead girl you used to know, no longer knows you.
Can you see the girl searching for a home? A place where her tears can dry up and her heart is warmed?
All she wants is a way out? A way in? A way of not letting the monsters touch her Carmel skin and her African roots, a way of not having venom pierce her unwrapped spirit?
Can you feel this girl screaming, cutting, scratching, beating, starving and numbing the pain? Trying to find a way to reach through the soil’s surface and grab the core of her mother’s breath?
Where is the little girl you knew? The one you loved/craved for/wanted/needed?
Can’t you see that she is gone, forever not to return?
Can’t you se her adolescent form hurting? Begging and crying for you to unravel her cracking chipped mask? As she bleeds the love you have for her on the floor, wondering where the hell you could go.
Can you see that the one standing in front of you and the one who used to stand in front of you are the same but different? The same girls born together but separated at birth, locking hands and swearing to keep each others secrets?
This little girl has died she was poisoned with pharmaceutical lies and run over with tired battered, criminal lines?
You can’t help the girl who already has life’s needles in her arm, feeding off the damaging drug of the world, as it takes her down and drags her to a place others dared not to go?
You can’t stop the girl from giving away her body to the many men who feed off of her who use her.
You can’t stop the sickening thud this girl commits with every single jump.
You can’t stop the flood of tears this girl's vagina bleeds every night.
You can’t stop the killing of the little girl in side her heart. The one you loved/craved for/needed/wanted.
Because you can’t even tell the difference from missing and gone
Because you're too afraid to except the truth that the little dead girl you used to know, no longer knows you.