THE ULTIMATE GUIDE TO EPOCH POETRY

Black is the color of my small brother’s brain, the grey streaks in my mother’s hair. Black is the colour of my yellow cousin’s smile, the scards on my neighbor’s wrinkled experience……we go to satisfy the realization of makers being aware of who we are …knowing tips on how to Stay, and what life is… …we must spin through our seven

Black is the colour of my small brother’s head, the gray streaks in my mom’s hair. Black is the colour of my yellow cousin’s smile, the scards on my neighbor’s wrinkled face…is a means of claiming the truth that hurts by using a chuckle, a means of capping on (shutting up) a person. Obtaining even talking bout folks’s mammas and these k