Happiness left me, like the daughter of the cancer...
Or the buzzing bee who lost its sting...

Webs of cotton- pink, from his hand
Touching the braids of her hair...

And there sat, my heart
Clay painted with purple patterns...

Must one like me be so terrifying?
So electric against winds stronger than...

Ebony streaks, straight, brilliant hair
Concealed ropes wave and braid her soul...

(And he said)
How can one ponder self-insanity...

Blemish free, they wonder why?
Why when they scream...

I colour it black, oxymoronic tones;
Gothic, simplistic, ‘chic...

Floating towards the igniting melodies;
I stand, perspiring, in a pit of nobodies...

If a man is untoward to a female;
It sexism still alive...

Crimson liquid spilling down ones lips,
Blackened gaze staring motionlessly...

Ignorance of a futile substance
Inhaling a sight that’s been tainted by...