She said,
I want to die
Just let me die.
And I felt her words
Throughout the entirety of my soul
Because I knew
I knew.

We sat there stroking her back
He and I.
As she kept saying
I want to die
I looked up at him
And I saw it in his eyes
And he saw it in mine
Because he knew.
He knew.

Three broken people
Sitting at a party together.
Her sober thoughts coming out
As drunk words.
I heard it in her voice,
He saw it in my eyes,
I saw it in his eyes,
And for one second,
None of us were alone
Together we shared the pain.
Because we knew.
We knew.

Breathe in
Breathe out

I'm drowning
I can't think
I'm all alone

Breathe in
Breathe out

It's all darkness
The light fled
I'm blind and lost

Breathe in
Breathe out

I can't move
I'm so tired
Everything is too fast

Breathe in
Breathe out

I can't go on
I don't want to live
I want it to stop

Breathe in
Breathe out


Breathe in
Breathe out


Breathe in
Breathe out


Breathe in....








Breathe out

My hair is crazy

It is frizzy, tangled, wild

My hair cannot be tamed
You cannot confine it

It is not glossy and smooth
Gently curled
Flowing and sweet

My hair is crazy
My hair is free

My hair is not beautiful
My hair is not calm
My hair does not fit in

My hair is crazy
And perhaps that's okay

silent tears resemble a woeful creature
silent tears carries the loudest pain
silent tears brings pursuit of happiness.

I surrender to the God of liberty
who makes me lie down in eternal love,
and the malice-infested swamps
dive in my peace
trying to impurify the
esteem of my being.
Here stands a society ready
to annihilate me
their guns point with rage
trying to contradict my black skin
into the depths of sin
I am not a badge of shame.
I always kept myself locked in
became a fiend of my own mind
suppressed in the name
of slavery and injustice
my roots were planted in a dry harvest.
My heart is worn out,
dogged up is my throat
when my speech is unable
to cultivate the capacity of my ethnicity.
Where is the pride?
Where is the peace?
Stay woke, my people.
We need to develop
inherent worth and dignity
resist conformity of the regime
revive our immortal spirits
and begin to breathe in the cosmic of superiority and solidarity.
Black people, we are magic.

I don't cry a lot, or at all for that matter.
I've fooled myself into thinking strength, isn't comforted by weakness.
Truth is, weakness is the builder of strength.

I find that so contradictory, because what breaks me, tears me up and what strengthens me, builds my character up.

No one decides, which is which.
We have feminists arguing on behalf of the woman, dictating and reasoning for emotional expressions, but society judges being make and falling.

Being a man, is a matter of endurance through hardships, breaking sweats, but never breaking a tear, because water works shouldn't work on male species, because feeling, isn't in our nature, says society.

So, we aimlessly tear through the jungle, hunting for what we don't know, looking for a next meal, never being content, because, contentment is not part of our nature, says society.

With private parts being made public, we move through the next with being hesitant, by the time she realizes, she's already been ******.

Break hearts, play hearts and acting like we have hearts. That's society's perception of the male species.

Society never talks about, the clean up crew.
Society, never speaks about me.

Society never speaks about my ****** hands with cuts of your broken heart, and with missing body parts try to bring aid to your heart.

Society never speaks about trying to make you understand how I'm different, and with countless bouquets, it's never okay to let me in because you let him in, and from the *******, he left like you were nothing, and now that you have something, you won't let me in.

He penetrated your skin, and I'm not fascinated by it, I was see your soul unmasked to mine, so I explore your soul before your body, and these steps I take on hot coal, because he didn't care so much so that the cuts burn.

Your soul is almost like a morgue, I swear it's like your heart has been cremated, with an invite to your funeral, I hope you spread your ashes on my heart, so once again you can feel something whole, again.