African Baby

I; live in a state of self reflection.

A metaphorical stances.

Metastasizing my conscious.

I; idolize my state of being.

Future.

Past.

And present.

I; write these words.

But they play games.

Once written in pencil.

But then erased; everchanging.

I; an African baby.

Big hair.

Round hips.

I; am part of this society,

But they tell me.

I need flat hair; small hips.

But then they say I’m beautiful.

What am I.

I; am an African baby.

Gloriously unique.

Making my own diplomacy.

I; am an African baby.

And will always be.