​Branded by the skin I was born in, there is no need for a heated metal plate to burn me. When they see me, they will place me on a stake and set fire to every part of my body without a second thought to my innocence. The blacker the berry, the more poisonous it must look for me to be condemned to a life of rejection and labeled as a threat for my only crime of being born my mother’s and father’s child.

I changed my hair again.
My curls have been weaved into braids.
I resemble an Egyptian queen.
My reflection is strength, beauty, and unapologetically unafraid.
 
The transition continues.
This time I have to let it breathe,
I pray someone mistakes me for Angela Davis.
You couldn’t bound me even through captivity.
 
My tracks have been set in place.
I paid for inches that could touch the floor.
Just like my twin, Beyoncée, I will uplift women.
My locs will be your ladder to reach a higher place to soar.
 
I find myself back at God’s first choice.
My hair is fertilized, growing, and blossoming in kinks.
This particular look has my reflection clapping back.
Some would call me black girl magic which is just another term for masterpiece.​

I definitely believe in a “to each their own” mentality but I also feel like some people have the idea of monogamy twisted. Men specifically have told me that if it’s possible to have multiple soul mates, then why would I not explore them all? I agree. What I, personally, can’t do is explore them all at the same time. One of my friends even called me closed minded because of this idea I have that every romantic relationship in your life deserves its own place in time separate from the rest. Some people have even reached far enough to explain to me that monogamy is a limitation on love. I disagree.
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