Bop: A Southern Gothic
Memories drift back in bits and pieces
of Dixie's sons and daughters sniffing out my weakness
Like kudzu creeping, everywhere I turned I saw
monsters in neighbors and mirrors in monsters
Still no matter how much I try to resist it
I wax nostalgic for a person who never existed
There's places I go I can't tell you about
There's things I've done I can't carry around
I need to let go
I need to let go
That feeling when my body needed no apology
and I could live a single day without them always testing me
That feeling when I didn't have to dance for acceptance
when culture was my armor and creation was my weapon
That feeling when I woke with strong faith and dry eyes
cause I reveled in the dawn, unafraid to greet the sky
That feeling when I didn't hate myself
That feeling when I could embrace myself
There's places I go I can't tell you about
There's things I've done I can't carry around
I need to let go
I need to let go
Monsters in neighbors and monsters in mirrors
I've searched my reflection can't be any clearer
As much as my heart fairly breaks to admit it,
inside two wolves wrestle; the evil one's winning
Yeah, the whips keep on jumping, and the cotton is high
Spilling my secrets, my shame: a Southern Gothic
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Image description:
The black-and-white image is a typographic illustration of the author’s face. Two vultures sit on either shoulder. At the bottom of the image are the the words “The Messenger” in all-caps.
About Dominic Bradley:
Dominic Bradley is a multimedia artist who lives in Brooklyn. They are a facilitator and editor of Rest for Resistance, and have also written about the HALT coping strategy.
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