Woe, My Envious Friend

By Khalelia Ahmad

“My hands always end up tied, calluses  

forming from doing another’s time, 

And I can’t even cry, even if I tried, I will  

still have to face the result of their crimes, 

All because of a lie, I speak truth but they  

heed the voice of porcelain before mine. 

History repeats itself, I may have lost  

touch, lost some melanin with my culture, 

But it’s still in my veins, I see the envy in  

their stares, sly vultures preying on me, 

Unhappy with their luxury, born into it  

and then grasp onto my win, jealousy is in. 

Privilege wasn’t enough, nor the bloodline  

and effortless riches from inheritance, 

Taking my nice for instance, and making  

it sound like a show, the idea was mine, 

But it’s in your blood to steal what isn’t  

yours, to claim a minorities ticket home. 

It’s all I have, talents and passions that  

make me me, who’s going to believe in you? 

I have no more nice to donate to you, but  

it’s still my fault, held in account to what? 

For being myself, that your mindset  

doesn’t handle it well, insecure little girl. 

We’ve all been their once, that’s no excuse  

for I heard your words, loud and clear, 

Anything ethnic is a threat to your fear  

and that’s pale of you, even for your race, 

I’ve met and loved many before but  

you’re the breed my father warned me of. 

Angelic looking beings trying to drain my  

light, wanting to be ethnic too, all in spite, 

And I love them, I do, I grew up around  

them, learned to fall for their smile, 

Learned to love their fairness and fall  

for the bare sky in their eyes, a pure soul. 

Those are the ones I’ve met before, ones I  

fell for and even battled brethrens for, 

But you’re not like them, curse me out for  

not bowing to your every whim and need, 

Do you mistake me for my ancestor? Do  

you favour the era where I am the help? 

Your mind must have the century misspelt  

for if you take me back to any type of era, 

I’ll be a lady, princess, duchess, a title of  

elegance that matches my hearts context, 

But I shalt let you make me your maid, I  

am no slave to surrender my everything. 

You want a helpless aid who’ll trade your  

charity for utmost obedience, why cry? 

You have everything already, don’t be a  

fraud of struggles out of convenience, 

Unfortunately, it’s takes a genius to figure  

it out, and it’s a pity, I really tried to help. 

My hands are tied, so I clasp them close  

together to yelp out a desperate prayer, 

To curse away a destiny swapper who tries  

to take my name and all its attached to, 

All my work, signed the same, I say, may  

an angel smite your cursed envy away.” 

By Khalelia Ahmad