Baby phat

Baby Phat

Shout- Out

Atigre’ Farmer

© Copyright 2013

 

 

 

 

Her shadow lies behind her

She is no longer that girl they all can’t wait to see

She is a woman

Sometimes a closet of her own dirt

A simple concoction of determined and two times a man’s work

A diamond that rust and transforms into a rock

An innocent cow murdered right on the spot

She is an artist that can’t even draw a line

That girl right there is no longer young

She crossed that path a while ago when she took a Neuse and hung herself

Which amused death to see a tough sky fall?

Selfish death right?

Taking a life every day, chipping off a piece of the boulder every time it’s in her way

Death has to be a woman right?

It makes sense going around in her black silk cape made up of silent threads, feeding through the cups of dead souls

Death has to be a woman right?

Carrying bags on her shoulders of the depressed, abused, and the joyful

Feeling as heavy as sumo-wrestlers hanging on to her bare dry shoulder bones by the very nails at their fingertips.

Death is a woman

Her shadow lies behind her she is no longer that girl they all can’t wait to see.

 

    

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
My family

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