by Erica Costa
An ordinary friday morning,
something came out of the blue without a warning.
One single word pulverized my soul;
I could feel nothing but my body melting into a sinkhole.
I sat and wondered, there I pondered, where students maundered
a cold and dreary shadow circled me;
all I begged for was a simple apology.
But an apology wouldn’t fix my now splintered smile.
My mama had mentioned that I was a beautiful Cape Verdean crocodile:
an individual whom I had no attachments to told me otherwise.
How dare I let mama fool me with such stupidity!
The anger and rejection for the world filled me with sorrow.
Pale skin, can I borrow?
How foolish of me to think a word can define me.
Feelings of anguish build up inside me.
The fight was fought so that I can be happy in my own skin, even my ancestors would agree.
To the individual that ruined my friday morning:
I will not stop here and leave my family mourning.
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