Captured Identity

Her story begins where her mother’s ended She tries to occupy and conceptualize the idea, that her history, was intended She’s scared, and each step she takes to escape leads to her life being at stake. SHE is not SHE is not HE is not HER, what’s the word? It’s called, identity And it’s gone, it was never there. She’s been searching for it, since her body abandoned her brain in her homeland. Man, they captured her gems and jewels, used their psychological tools to abuse and left her stranded and used. Used Goods Used goods with no companion that can stand to see the one they love opened and manhandled. She bounces back each time, still keeping in mind that she lacks, a name. She’s ashamed. Of it all, and her body’s begun to stall in response to each command she’s been given. The mental burden of her ancestors has driven her to become numb. She refuses to come, and bring every aspect of herself to the surface, because No one else is worth it. But she fronts like she’s got a thirst for it. She’ll work for it, Serve others while her other half is left in the dirt, It seems like she lost her mind but just in time she decided to rhyme Identity with Imagine. These two words continue to flow from her pores with swords of hope and faith. But even her faith was stolen, something artificial was introduced with the support of self-hate. But wait? She thought she was free, sadly she thought wrong, and the shackles of her brain remain on. Her heart continues to follow those distant sounds of a home, unknown. This home which she thought she could call the motherland But even they don’t want her coming back with her baggage and She’s been searching for something, Something that can tell her where she comes from and what she is. Because textbooks don’t explain unwanted pregnancies and unwanted kids She’s tried to ignore it, but it’s hard to ignore yourself Each time she sees her reflection, she’s reminded of their stealth The ways in which they carefully made sure there would be no security for generations to come A lack of clear minds and broken homes for unborn daughters and unborn sons No one Can afford to lie to themselves Place you’re made up lies on history’s dusty shelves Take these lies weaved through your brain, And make the knots undone Be done, Please Become Something other than what history has made you out to be Honestly, THEY, did a job on us Do not minimize the effect of their whip That broke through the still air, while in the womb, her baby still kicked If we are talking about a mission accomplished, I think an award is in order Because false Order in a court room still has not changed my similarity to the mortar History is the pistol, and it attempts to grind the motivation present in my mind My heart My soul My soul It seems that I have forgotten why I must live Why when times get rough, that’s the best time to give Why my duty will always be to the womb that bore me Why I’m up here in the first place to tell you this story Of a girl who’s name remains a mystery Her history May be laced with inflicted misery from them But the strength of her true faith Motivates her to prevail, Once again