Poetry:”CREOLE WOMEN”

My history is my ancestory
Them French quarters speak
Deep in them swamps lays that
Barrier ground that creeps
where them slaves dance
Around my tree their hang my enemies
those Broken bones flesh
and that blood that leaks
My enchanted dazzle them men began to stare
Dare to betray nor the light of despair
Them roots run deep like clear water
ready to spill breaking those curses
so noone will kill
To the black and waviness to my curly hair
As my skin is a mix of black and white
becoming the masters epidemic
of a bed wench
breed them babies and dont get claimed. but feed they big head children
so still a sex slave we remain
My creole runs deep. from my head to my feet
Oh creole woman oh creole woman
Where do ur history lyes. are u finding yourself
Through these crimson tides
The storm is yet to find you. and meet your quest
You can either go south or west make ur choice to be free and learn ur journey im ending those swords that linger towards me u can cut bite and pick at my skin but my creole woman inside wont ever end.