The kink in my fro

Is not enough

For those

People who chain us up

Although,

It’s been a minute since 88

The mental slavery in our veins

The demise of our people still ingrained in their brain

My hair is my beauty

So why must I explain why

It’s not my duty

To explain

why touching it is disrespectful

My hair is mine, and I must bear the weight

Our sun-kissed skin is not a thief in the night

But a shield built after years of turmoil

Why must the heavens show so much cruelty

For this to be

So,

No more dispersing like mice

We must unite

We must fight

For our people’s rights

| Beleza - the property of being attractive, pleasing, fine, good looking, or beauty