epitome of paradoxes

Written by Chenoa Zazen

 

It is not her fault, but she is sorry.

It’s not your fault,
The sun still shines
The moon beams
It’s not your fault
But she is blamed for the uncontrollable
Until she disappears into the mold
It is not your fault,
But she is sorry for being her
She is no good, and rather not be
But something holds her, keeps her here
In the endless desperation of fear
Fear of acceptance, keeps that alive, her alive

It is not your fault
But the mind will never cease
Run, run, running in circles until the black substance subsides
She pulls her hair, scratches her skin, rips her eyes
Try to realize her lies
Is she a lie?

She is sorry for being her, she prays she wasn’t
She despises, spits at her self, living in the ongoing fear of self-comparison
She will never be good enough for societal views
So why not escape that world
Free of self-loathing implications
A place of peace
Where the sun meets the horizon sheets
And the moon casts its shadows down on a place of pureness
That does not exist until the mind finally ceases
Quiets down into the darkened, endless space
Leaving behind the ongoing chase

It’s not her fault but she is sorry for being her
She wishes she were like her, 
The white women stature, 
The independent black woman persona she yearns for


She is dark but light
She is shy but loud
She is ugly but pretty
She is skinny but fat
She is the epitome of paradoxes

The past has caught up, she cannot outrun it this time
She sprints, she swims, she fights, she runs, she tries to climb
But her past lingers as she attempts to escape
Then she stops for a moment to catch her breath, 
And it creeps on her like a black cat in the middle of the night
Haunting, watching, its prey before it makes its final attack
It is always watching her, but hiding in the shadows of despair. 

It’s not her fault, but she is sorry for being her

 

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