The traditional Moroccan castle,
Bathed under the autumn moonlight.
A Dominican woman,
With midnight skin and emerald eyes,
Stood on the balcony,
Overseeing the scenery.
She was the epitome of nobility,
But her heart was heavily guarded,
In result of a cultural rivalry.
At the age of thirteen,
She was attacked from all sides,
For not picking an identity.
She's from a tree of chromosomes,
That values the importance of heritage.
She has a Santo Domingo bloodline,
Shown in her Spanish lineage,
Concealed in her African ancestry,
Draped in Taíno traditions,
Raised in a Catholic upbringing,
But she cannot be bothered,
With justifying her family history,
"Why does it matter, that her roots are knotted differently?"

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