What is it about my body?
It is not gonna be a dramatic poem,
the music might feel at first, like pinching your skin, biting your cracked bones
I felt it too, when I really explored myself
What is it about me, what is it about my body, they adore
Its mere brown skin, soft and fresh
Its just skin.
What is it about my body, they adore.
Is it the concept about the young they say,
attractive, fascinating and full of energy.
Or is it, they’re scared.
They are, did you find out?
Or is it, you’re scared now.
What is it about my skin, I hold it behind covers, sometimes black, sometimes blue
What is it about my body, I lock it in a cave to survive the predation.
I’m forgetting the color of the sky,
and how it feels to be touched by the wind
Why the predators are just living across the door,
why the existence has to be hidden in the dark hole.
What is it about me, what is it about my body?
I’m not happy, with every word you say about me
that you’re terrified about me,
that you fear for me,
that you can’t hold me any longer.
that you’re not content, since my birth.
that I’m a woman.
I don’t know what is about me,
I don’t know what is about my body,
to dislike, to be scared of.
is it the color of my skin,
or is it the sexual maturity.
If you know, answer my questions.
am I free to live?
am I free to see the sky?
am I free of the depression I faced throughout growing up?
am I free to be happy?
-umaima.
0Day 1 of me trying to get Dionysos’ attention by posting things that hopefully appeal to him :’)
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