God knows I’m sorry (part 2)

You were my first love, my first partner, what we shared was the first time I had sex.

You were so drunk, but your words, were so smooth, in which made pulling down my panties

Feel so right....

I felt like we had a connection, I thought you looking in eyes; me looking in yours... i thought that was love.

You said you would call but you didn’t.

I never saw you ever since the signs started showing.

After so many weeks I had to call, to tell you about the growing belly

And you asked; if it was yours.

I know I dressed inappropriately I looked like a trophy girl, the type who live lives of the night.

I got a big ass, nice breasts and thighs that don’t lie.

I spoke ignorance like it was bliss.

But honestly, I’m not like them...

I like reading, I got thick glasses, I feel so comfortable in long dresses.

I hate shopping for clothes,

I hate make up,

I hate eating like a cow; I prefer steaks and massive ribs,

I hate partying.

I hate alcohol

I don’t smoke, before that party I had virgin lungs.

I’m just a normal girl who is not normal....

I mean would you have looked at me or been attracted to me if you saw my true self?

Would you have looked at me like I’m a trophy girl, if you saw me without make up, the heels and the tight dress?

Would you have been engaged in conversation with me if.......?

We spoke about the revolution of us as blacks, or about the stars, the moon or about how fucked up society is..... Would you have paid attention to me if I told you about my ethics and morals?

I just had to be a trophy girl so for once I get attention; you know... the stirs, whistles, the compliments, the constant interruptions while in a conversations with my friends etc

I just wanted to be normal...

But being normal came with having a murder case on my hands.

So please this will be the last letter, my last...... before all these different types of pills go in to my mouth in form of healing my pains with death.

I can’t look myself in the mirror anymore, I can’t find happiness anymore, my mother hates me, my father won’t talk to me, and all the church folks are looking at me differently now, my teachers act so strangely, my real friends have deserted me, the fake friends; who transformed me into this are so judgmental....... so life seems to be useless.

And when you get this, don’t feel sorry for me, or blame yourself, it’s my entire fault.

Just promise me you will never participate in another murdering of an unborn baby.

Find someone you will truly love, progress in you poetry etc.

And what happened at the clinic will forever stay between me and you.

Lebron Spirits