For Black Girls Who’ve Written Their Mothers Suicide Letters
she gon’ tell you you’re crazy for letting a man ruin you
she gon’ tell you that your generation don’t know how to keep no man
she gon’ tell you that suicide ain’t going get you into heaven
she gon’ tell you to pray it away
even tho the sanctuary hasn’t swept her into a holy ghost all your life
she gon’ tell you that ya ass shouldn’t have been messing with him anyway
she gon’ tell you that you therapy is for crazy folk
and that you is crazy
and that this conversation better not leave her house
cause in black families we pass down secrets like they recipes
somebody please pass the black eyed peas
that and the lord’s house are the only bowls of prosperity
Black girls, we aren’t allowed to be sad
so when depression turns
loud and angry
then we’re doing it right
following in our mothers
shrink-herself-to-be-loved-by-a-man
footsteps
they expect us to close our throats
when all we can do is scream
although you’ve been told all of your life that you’re her twin
the way she loved you
in scorn
is no reflection of you
cause oh what a lil wine,
candles
and moonlight can do
Black Girl Therapy
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