Civil war for a woman of color

She is at war with herself 

Can't come to grips with her dark eyes

Fighting, launching battle ships to turn them blue 

But what she doesn't realize is her entire being is already that color,

changing her eyes would make no one recognize her 

But that's what she wants

To get away from herself 

And yes, she's at war with herself 

But she invades others with her imperialist ideas 

that she is the best 

Because she wears the latest

Because she's clad in designers 

we can't afford 

Because she doesn't drive a ford

No one that knew her recognizes her now

Except for the insightful 

And those who wish to be like her

Secretly fiddle their rifles 

Because something about her seems fake, and off 

It's not just the extensions that make her hair look longer & softer

It's the show of glamour 

But when she looks in the mirror 

The eyes looking back behind blue contacts are sad

The eyes protected by fake lashes 

Are mad 

and full with raging storms that swirl around her pupils 

Storms of unreconciled feelings 

Of what her beauty should be 

The civil war wages on

Which side will win? Insecurity or acceptance?

It's hard to do penance 

Looking for herself in the gazes of men 

In the eyes of equally lost boys 

She almost finds herself buried there

Beneath those toys 

But she doesn't quite hit the mark

She almost finds herself underneath the confetti of money thrown her way

For her irristable, salacious tendencies

But she doesn't really get it.  

And the lost boys take her in

They indulge in her cardinal sin

She is satisfied because she's adored 

But the other starving side of her begs for more 

The brand names cover up the 

bad thoughts 

They are all she needs to feel safe

They define her down to her bones 

Too bad she can't see that her mind can define her even more 

If only she knew that true adoration can only come from within 

Starting a war and trying to abandon your own country -

Either way you can't win 

And missiles of judgment are fired with no hesitation 

at those who don't meet her requirement

That everyone be tasteful and stylish 

In order to have fulfillment 

But who is she to judge 

What can make another happy when she can't even figure it out?

If she knew who she was she'd have an answer for that

Imperialism again, no doubt

Maybe one day she will learn

The key to happiness lives in those 

dark eyes

It's not until she draws a peace treaty between her dichotomy 

That her true potential will be realized.

©L.A. Fraser