Most of time I wondered.
If I was amazing enough.
If I was beautiful enough.
Sometimes I glued myself with a mirror.
Trying to verify errors.
In thy beauty of an African woman.

Most of times I wished, my nose was longer.
Sometimes I wished my lips were bit thicker.
Sometimes I wished my skin was little darker.
Because I didn’t understand it,
The beauty of African woman.

A pair of grown-ish grown within.
Little by little a girl became a woman.
Weakness became strength.
Sadness became Joy.
Through that same mirror I saw,
An intelligent.
A strong and beautiful African woman.