deepundergroundpoetry.com

cruel mind games

her hand looked like stretched canvas losing elasticity
lily-white paper-thin skin lying over bone and drying veins
this vibrant life has no current thoughts and lost electricity
my warm hand attempts to give her spark back as she wanes
she looked in my eyes and for a moment I saw her
my white southern grandmother called me “el blanquito”
loved me and my spanish side english many preferred
her smile soured and she backslid her hand very slow
her sweet hazel eyes which I also carry turned black
she spat to my feet and slapped me then told me to go home
the sweet protector of the caramel-colored child now attacks
to my once guardian angel I will be the man you helped comb
Written by Remy_L (Remington Lancaster)
Published
Author's Note
My sweet beacon of hope grandmother, my savior, my hero against the narrowminded now falls victim to her dementia and her upbringing. She looks at me with disgust, her only half white and half Spanish grandchild.

04.16.2021
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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