Everything people say about me is true.

They say I have scars
Scars that run deeper than the Grand Canyon
Scars that are as old as time
And just as unmovable

They say my father stole me from my mother
And proceeded to try and kill me
They say all the foster care had made me schizophrenic
Thinking I’m too lopsided
And need to cut off parts of me to find balance
They say I cannot be trusted
They even say … I have died several times

They say today I have a cancer
As a result of all my bad habits
They say it is a contagious one
That once you touch me you catch it
They say I speak in tongues but have no language
They say my children are all bastards

They say I once slept with a god
And woke up with a superiority complex
They say that same god left me for dead
That must have been when I lost it
They say I am not neighborly
And my children have no manners
They say I am a whore
A manipulative, stubborn whore

But they also admit I am of exceptional beauty
They say there is an air about me
Apparently you can’t help but love me
They say my curves make you forget the time
They say my dancing defines grace
They say my breath gives life itself

They say my household works the hardest
And they say my resilience is unparalleled
They say my new father is a force to reckon with
And you may hate him but he is admirable
They say I am lucky he found me
And rescued me from myself

They say my whoring days are numbered
And my children wish to come home again
And my wounds do not stink as they used to
They say I am standing upright again
They say … There is hope for me yet.

– Mpinga –

 

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