i think that the most damaged people in the world
are the kindest
and the softest

because they know
that scabs can be picked
and you can bleed

The best of us comes out when the rest of us is gone.

At least,
I hope that's the case as I just want to save face and get away when my days face me with the longest ways around.

The depression sets as I attempt to find my faded song's wasted namesake.
Looking for a better view of the days whereupon my incessant sighs are drawn.

Drawn like a depressive sketch,
With the pencil marks parked along the secrets to peace's faded spark.

My fallacy, you see,
I'd rather breathe within the seas than have to see these things the way they've gone,
Strung me along the heartstrings stretched so thin as to nigh be my patience with this broken masterpiece.

And so,

The best of us are broken when the rest of us are gone.

But, the best in us comes out,
When the rest of us is wrong.

Sometimes you make me feel over the moon

Sometimes you make me feel under it all

Why?

I want to be cold
I like feeling strong
I’m finally bold
Although it took long

But then you come and I change
You talk to my heart
This new feeling is strange
My walls fall apart

You know the untold
You touch the untouched
You make me unfold
Stop if it’s too much

Too free to be tamed
Reckless, but sane
Let us be close
Yet not overdose.

I am the sunflower that
grows in your garden,
and worships you like the sun

I will shatter my heart
before I break yours  

I will rip out my eyes
before I make yours cry

And I will always love you even when
your heart is no longer beating for mine

Come and lay your body
upon my empty bed,
and pour your
scent on its sheets

Whisper of your pain
and glee to my pillow,
and leave a lock of your
red-brown hair under it

Only then will I
be able to sleep,
and my eyes will
no longer weep

open your eyes
we're living in 
a colonized culture
built upon 
oppression and lies

coincidence
no
this is
injustice faced
due to someone’s race

Black woman will go through racism, absent father, abuse by spouse and still shine.

She will protect with fierce love she has but only experienced from her own struggling mother.

She will teach love and forgiveness as if being victim to hate were foreign to her.

She will sweat

and cry

and bleed

then cover her wounds and continue being the pillar of this earth.

She is beautiful, despite being told she isn't.

She is God's creation.

She is you.

You are she.

And black woman,

You   are   powerful.