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The Bronx Is The Daughter That I Refused To Love.
Desperately, she pleads for me
with my heart wanting to love her
but what's there to love?
I don't love her
Maybe it's the postpartum feeling,
or the stress of being a mother
I just don't love her
she irritates my anger even in the midst of her doing right
my fury lurking
her cries of frustration and neglect,
I don't pay her no mind
maybe if she was prettier, nicer, richer
or better
I would hold some love for her
maybe if she wasn't the Bronx, I would love her
She and I just have to deal with it
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This piece encapsulates my sentiments, mostly anger and agony, towards the place I have been raised in, the Bronx. This piece is not absolutely nuanced or elaborative on the reasons of my hate but rather more on the how's and what's of my anger and it's manifestation.