“Treasure”
A good girl raised in the hood.
Forever being regarded to as a “treasure”.
A smile that can lighten up your life
Even in gloomy weather.
Stares follow her, on every block she roams.
Yet her eyes look down
As if her beauty is unknown.
Her head stays down as well,
So that she doesn’t look back.
As the whistles in the wind
Try to stop her in her tracks.
She pays no one any mind,
And may hear some “uppity” comments.
But a fool is known by speech
And a wise woman by her silence.
Her head is still bowed
As if she was saying a prayer.
Thinking of her escape and how she’d go anywhere.
She knows,
They want her pure energy for pleasure.
Yet, she’d rather die than stay in the place that regards to her as a "treasure".
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