Comb your hair, clean my house, bathe those kids

We are objects, We are inferior

Our heads bow down as our backs bend over

Palms face thigh, skin shedding

Thoughts crawling, Lips sealed

Hair long to the elbows, to the hands that ache from serving the full

Polished nails

Pierced ears listen to weak, prideful demands

Hearts racing, tongue stuck to the base of our jaws that lay so low on our chest

Color your face and dress to impress

Taught our limit as soon as our knees stand straight

Can we know what we haven’t been taught

Can we taste without teeth

Can we feel with our hands tied

Hope exists until our heart beats out and till our blood runs low

We have a voice, a chance, and the will

We are done being cooked, burnt, and shredded

Generations of being beaten, bought, and broken

Our fist are raised high and ready to aim

So you can cut the burners off

Our blood is boiling

– Jasmine Bell