There’s a story on my arm, i am forced to wear. A story nobody can ever re- write. Black ink stands firm fighting against my melanin it wants to be seen, Waiting like an open canvas for life to pour out. As a woman I always add a colored feather, that brightens my day...

This is addressed to you , the one who disrespects me.the one I have to look within myself for to step outside my box just to teach you , a fool how to become correct. Using the  color my  of my skin as an excuse of why you think i am a well who’s...

Self hate inflicted by european sciences. A lack of understanding that destroys Africans, where my brother becomes an intimidation because his knowledge is a threat, is that why I have to cut his ears and pop his eyes out just because  “He is stealing my job” when did we become strangers?, when did we...