Misguided

How it feels to be Misguided Me

She traces the jawline held high with her two fingers

Unwanted emotions well up in the back of her throat though her face remains stoic

Her ghost takes her back

To the place of sorrow in her heart

She feels the anxiety in the room

As the monstrous dirty mud color of the walls closes in on her

Forcefully reminding her of her deficit

The iniquity caused by the treacherous seed of two fair skinned human beings

Her

She sees herself in the mirror

Colored

Burned by the raging anger of the sun

Condemned by a world of sickening Caucasian supremacist

Her voice is silenced

Her beauty unnoticed

Shunned

She obliges to their unenlightened conventions of beauty

Then, using her budget, she acquires herself a mirror

The dusted ones they sell at the corner store

However, she does not look in the mirror just yet

She goes into her small packed closet and retrieves her precious Lysol

She sprays it into her hand washed greased napkin

And begins to wipe the mirror

She is astonished at how the unfiltered mirror diverged from truth