she called me beautiful,
it sounded like a question;
how dare I be mistaken as a beauty?
it was an accusation,
I had no right to be so audacious.

she called me beautiful
my origin was in question,
my skin had not been scorched
perhaps my blood was diluted?
Africa must not have birthed me.

this beauty she praises, were does it belong
this beauty she sees, I fear it’s painted on
this beauty she laments it’s never been glorified
this beauty she admires, admirer’s never sought to buy

she called me beautiful
I called her a liar
how dare she see things that weren’t there?
she called me beautiful, I don’t know why,
I said to her, beauty was never here.

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