The Poetry Marathon

if what I said hurt, if what I said felt worse than me speaking of the rich, if what I said about the ghetto was unexpected and unacceptable then why on earth do you agree with me when I speak the same harmful words of the rich… Where is freedom for my words and justification for yours…

~ebony

Evidently there was mounts of history soiled to her clothing, repeated, unexpected loss… So she sat in darkness waiting for the crack to be sharp enough to inject, the needle shook faster than her own hand, where was the piece, the piece of injection that gave peace…

~ebony