Mind {Prose Vol. 2}✔

149th Poem: Grow Up, Black Girl (Fin.)

Black girl, Black girl, you finally made it.

it's time to graduate, the day is here, but why don't you feel happy?

there is tension, there is pain, you don't even feel freedom,

you arrive at baccalaureate and the step gets out of the car, she leaves, doesn't look back,

you didn't want her there anyway, but that move was like a slap

how could you smile and keep going throughout the day?

clearly you weren't wanted, you weren't important, it's just like any other day

you walk in there, sad, not even really in tune with the program, 

you walk when you're supposed to walk

you smile and move on

you feel ugly, your hair was stupid, why'd you even go with that choice?

it was left over from prom and the cap on it makes you look like an ugly boy

prom was overrated, just a glam show that wasn't your scene, 

she got super involved, probably just because she could finally doll you up like she always wanted you to be

you made it to graduation, you were in a beautiful basilica, 

you crossed the stage, got your award, got your piece of paper after- it was time to celebrate

but celebrate what? the day was already bad

you made it through but you were off and there was no changing that

family members you love showed up and you didn't want to disappoint, 

but you just weren't fully there, you felt bad, but there was nothing to do at that point

she walked out on your graduation, father decided that was the last straw,

after awhile a divorce started and during semester two of college freshman year, 

she was somewhat gone but the damage was already done

you're permanently scarred

your closeness to your dad is shattered

your trust is battered

your heart feels like it's just being juggled on its strings

you're 18, 

you're grown up now, what are you supposed to feel?

nothing feels better, 

you're a burden, 

you're not clever

you never listen to what i'm saying, 

you're worthless, 

you don't care..

why are you even here?

Black girl, Black girl, why are you even here?

Does your father even love you anymore? There's tension everywhere

just stay upstairs in your room, your faux safe haven, away from the imminent doom

but you can't, there's no escape, you're stuck in your mind 

every word he says cuts sharp like a knife, where's mine?

sometimes i think i should use it, out of my freaking mind

Grow up Black girl, grow up, grow up

your life is on the line.

a/n

Final part of a long, unedited poem series; completed at nine parts, written 10:58pm-12:09am June/9-10/2020.