The tears you cry to control me

The privilege that comes

with your identity

or absence of melanin

is the same shade

as the tears you cry

to control me

the struggle you claim

to comprehend

fails to acknowledge

our experience

robbing us of

our space to heal

when you ask

if I need help

you are doing so

to absolve your guilt

of your ancestors

ask me instead

if you may begin to listen

to my stories

not from the written word

of those who claim to know it

better than those of us

who have lived it

but by delivering yourself

to the lion’s mouth

by Rina Malagayo Alluri

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She is gone now

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being a girl is a wasteland