Supermodel by Bidley Saladin

I love that my skin was Painted so dark by God.
He loves me so much.
The world is honored to have Me, sometimes.
I am honored to be me, always.
The concrete is my lover, my brothers have married sisters and yellow lines.
I married Authentic and we fucked forever.
I gaze straight into lens and become an eyeful,
Or an eyesore.
Black Pixie in Pixel.
I am sly like cunning fox, lustful of angels even after I met Me.
The world is honored to have Me, sometimes.
I wear My own red, I am My own Black.
Elegant and chanting, My pupils have gravity.
I am often lost in Me,
say the color of My skin is marble if you ask me,
perfectly sculpted and glowing.
Casket pretty, if you will.
My skin is shoe shine of malt liquor and corner.
My skin can grow trees, if you ask Me.
Pink and white daisies.
My blood has been honey for eternity, but we already know that.
My lips can heal, if you ask Me.
Power of fabric and ghost,
My mother used needles to mend fences.
I am Me always because we are seen, sometimes.
Superhero and superstitious of snow, Satan,
Or anything that can hold My skin.
I’d love to show it off before you can.
Monument of concrete, black boy to soil so effortlessly.
Corner and crumb to fire and unity for a few days.
I never apologize for existing.
I am My mother’s child after all.