Gift wrap my afro.
Section it into bite sized chunks, easy enough to manage.
Cool enough to mirror some form of baggage.
You’re not noticed if your story doesn’t disseminate hardship.
Not valued in the present if the past has been smooth sailing.
My struggle was kidnapped and cloned for every soul who
Wasn’t fortunate enough to own one of their own.
Gift wrap my afro.
Tread on the partitions made along my scalp
And pick unlawfully from my plantation.
My master pilfers my powers and injects
Variations of myself into what his offspring was not privileged