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 Mar 2020 Chiquita
Clinton munaba
I remember when you were seventeen
I caught you staring at me all the time
I couldn't get mad
Instead I just laughed
And I still have
The sand print painting
that you made
In fact I have it framed in my mind
I have every art piece you made
To remind me that you're always
Pure in intentions
The more she looked at me the more I liked her
 Mar 2020 Chiquita
Clinton munaba
On the first time that I met you, I went to sleep trying to remember your face, but I could not make it out.
The only thing, the only feature that came so crystal  clear to my mind were your lips, astounding  as they are, like I know you are.
Lips that ravish my soul
They are the lips I wish to kiss
Your lips,
So warm that whisk my own
Lips that whisper to my ear
The lips I want to hear
Your lips,
Lips with which I fall in love
The lips worth a mythical tale
🦋  ,mythical lips
 Jan 2020 Chiquita
my bones
 Jan 2020 Chiquita
i feel broken in my
own bones
i want to get out of my skin
i want to change the unchangeable

my chest
my voice
my face
my everything feels wrong

I feel like crawling out
of my skin
ripping my chest off
and running away from my body

i just want it gone
just let this pain end
 Jan 2020 Chiquita
There is a boy in my closet
The boy is friendly but stays hidden
When I look in the mirror there he is
I became jealous of who he is
He says he wants to come out  
I decided to ignore it
But the curiosity grew bit by bit
Until I could barely stand it
But when I went downstairs my unapproving mother stood there
The boy wasn’t at ease with what our plan began to be
Because in reality, the boy was really me
But all people can see is she
That part wasn’t cut out for me
I don’t understand the big deal if I'm a he
 Jan 2020 Chiquita
Lorenzo Neltje
So, you ask,
How would I explain it?
Well certainly, as something
Not fun.
It's like...
It's like carrying a leach around with you.
When I walk, I can feel it,
It is a dead weight on my chest,
******* the life from my arms,
Making my hands and face slender,
What should be full and strong
It's like...
It's like when you're sick to your stomach.
That feeling of tar in your gut,
But instead of being isolated, it's everywhere
Throughout your body,
It makes you feel sick everywhere.

This is how I explain dysphoria:
Have you ever looked in the mirror,
And wanted to just rip all your hair out?
When a bad hair day gets out of hand,
Have you ever felt the need to just start over?
Even when you tear out a clump of hair
And your scalp looks raw and a little ******,
But you keep going anyway,
Just to get rid of that stupid haircut?
Alright, how about,
When you're watching the outtakes of a 3-D animated movie,
the scenes that have "gone wrong",
When the girl's eyes are far too big and pop out of her face,
Her arms are disconnected from her chest,
Her head moves but her teeth do not,
And you just want to scream "DELETE IT!"
Because it's obvious that someone has ******* up here,
And this nightmare, this fever dream
Is not what they intended their creation to look like.

Alright, well have you ever
Done a pencil drawing?
And you've put a lot of time and effort into it,
You're so proud,
This is one of your best works,
But something about it is just off?
You might not be able to tell what it is,
This will bother you for a long time,
You will spend hours on end thinking
About what exactly separates this piece of art from everything else,
What it is that keeps it from perfection...
Until suddenly one day, you realise,
You notice exactly what's wrong,
You grab an eraser to fix your mistake
But then, oh no
Your eraser was *****,
And when you tried to rub out that single wonky line,
You leave a huge black smudge across your paper
And now there's no way to get rid of it
All your work on this piece, ruined,
And you're really upset,
You were so proud of this drawing,
It was so close to being perfect,
It could have been so beautiful,
It was almost perfect, but now...

But now, it's wrong.
It just looks wrong
It just IS wrong,
It wasn't meant to look like this
I am trying to explain as simply as I can
That this body is wrong,
That it wasn't meant to look like this,
That it wasn't meant to BE like this!
Don't you understand?
This is how I explain dysphoria:
Have you ever looked in the mirror
And wanted to just rip your chest out?
Do you ever see your body, your parts seeming broken,
Your chest, legs, hear the sound of your voice
And just scream "DELETE IT!"
Because it's obvious that someone
Has ******* up
Someone was using a ***** eraser
When they created me, erased me,
And they've left smudges, mistakes, that I
Cannot get rid of,
And however hard I try to pretend
That I don't care,
I do,
And I still feel the need to erase them.
These leaches that I carry around,
They drain me,
And I was so proud of myself
This body...

It could have been so beautiful
An attempt at a spoken-word poem. I wrote this a while ago but I came back and edited it, and figured I’d finally publish it. It's very different to the style I usually write in, I think at some point while writing it it just turned into venting. I figure if this speaks to one person, I've done well.
 Oct 2019 Chiquita
Mena Mulugeta
Beautiful African girl
you are worth more than
a million things often
times You don't realize
you worth more than a dream.
Love who youve become,
love your skin

realize you are sweet
just like milk & honey.
Beautiful African girl
do not be afraid
and not accomplish
Look back at this
and realize what you mean.

Beautiful african girl
you’ve got a dream
go fulfill it never-stop
in what you believe.
 Oct 2018 Chiquita
Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.
DISCLAIMER: This is only from my personal point of view and how my battle with depression has been. Even though I am trying to recover, the battle gets very difficult for me sometimes and I have to remind myself that I am not my mental illness. My mental illness does not define me.
 May 2018 Chiquita
I scream and I scream and I scream and I scream

Yet you cannot hear me

They're ripping me apart, I beg your attention

Not for submission, but for some peace

I doubt you can understand me since I'm speaking in riddles

But I speak as clear as air...

I scream and I scream and I scream, please help me...

But I'm silent

I'm quiet...

And as I try to breathe, after being forced to hold my breath

I need to breathe...I'm suffocating

You've put me on mute

You've clogged your ears with hypnotic vibes

You don't even realize there are vines gripping around your heart

A seed has been planted

I'm being stabbed in the back of a van, begging for help

Screaming for help...

And yet they jog the sidewalk

They've put me on mute.

Now let it sink in........

My lungs are collapsing as I die of the incapability to breathe
The only help I have is intentionally muting me
I am valueless when I am simply one grape out of a bowl of fruit
As I'm stabbed by demons, only I can hear my screams
The human lens is cracked
What you see is not real
I am not in need of pity
I am in need of your will
Get new lenses
Someone needs your help
Don't put me on mute...for your comfort.
I'm an advocate of those who are silenced, suffocating, and dying for the chance to breathe...
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