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 Jan 2018 Em Quinn
ChikuShanae
Your word feed my depression causing its voice to be louder,
Making sure everything you said takes my happiness and happily devour.
I’m worthless, waste of space and ill mount to nothing,
Is only the few things you said that felt like a knife on my skin cutting.
The amount of times you said those things to me,
I started to think why me.
I was never happy being your easy target,
I’m not stupid lazy nor am I *******.
Tears have been wasted on your words.

         I couldn’t tell anyone,
Why?
Because they will tell me,
He’s only making fun.
Don’t take him on.

I no longer going to allow you to feed my depression,
Staying away from you has been the best decision.
That also meant leaving certain people behind,
Since they want to be blind.
I finally see the people I used to hang around from a different lens,
I now know what kind of people to not call my friends.
Growing up hearing sirens felt like the end of the world because being black is hard to escape sometimes we can’t even reach the age of 18 and sometimes we were raised by a single mother while our father is either locked up, a runaway, or just dead.

Growing up it was hard seeing our mother working hard to make sure we had clothes, shoes, food, and a place to lay our head and sometimes it was hard to even fake a smile without getting that feeling of being judged by someone else.

Growing up watching the news had us wondering “am I next?” because our culture had it bad sometimes it was hard to even walk out of our front door and sometimes it was just like a movie but the only difference is this is real and we have to fight for what we wanted.

Growing up it was all about who had this and who had that or who was from here or who was from there sometimes we only do what we see right in front of us and sometimes we all seem to make the same mistakes as the ones before us...

But.. growing up had us all waiting for a change and still wondering when it’s going to come!
A poem I made for a friend for this coming black history month!
i told my therapist about you,
while your lips were still slathered alllll over my body.
i showed her the places we had been,
and all the things we had seen.
i told her what lies underneath that pretty
                                              pretty
skin of yours,
and i told her how i knew.
i spelt out your name as she scribbled it on her cute little clipboard,
i told her about the   first     night
and the      second
and the   fourth
and that time in the closet.
i told her everything,
i really just wanted to   get
                                                  you
                                      out  
of my brain,
it didn't matter if saying these things put me in  sososo  much pain.
because you've  moved   on  so why can't i?
i told my therapist about you,
but i still can't tell you
                                           goodbye.  
i know i'm  s t u p i d,
for holding on this l
                               o
                                n
                             ­    g,
i know it's useless,
for wishing you weren't                              gone.
but my words carry on like a heartbeat
s     l      o      w
steady
                          fast
u   s   e   d
  n    t   a   y
i   keep   keep   keep  breaking and breaking and breaking and
i told my therapist about you.
i think part of the reason why we hold onto something so tight is because we fear something that great will never ever happen twice

****
i was in so much pain when i wrote this, my lover had just left with two years of my life and i felt so so so alone. i chewed through therapists constantly, they left me behind because i was too broken to fix. i hated them all. but there was this one, this one singular human being that listened to me. she didn't flinch, she didn't look at me like i was a broken puppy left for death. she just listened. i was all over the place, but i managed to lay out my entire mind for her to dissect. and she did. she helped me so so much, and i could never repay her enough for how she has helped me. when i got home, i wrote the basics of this. it was like 12:30 when i wrote it and i couldn't sleep the next night so i decided to make this look exactly how i felt when i wrote it the night before. how my lover made me feel for so long. so i did. i was crying mountains, i was hyperventilating, i threw my phone through the wall. i put all my anger, blood, tears in each letter, each space. i put it all in there and then posted it a couple weeks later. i didn't show anyone. i just put it out there, hoping my lover would see it. but it didn't even matter cause when i woke up, the whole world saw it instead. thank you. i love you all.
 Jan 2018 Em Quinn
Maria
̶N̶e̶e̶d̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶o̶n̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶̶n̶u̶m̶b ̶m̶y̶ ̶p̶a̶i̶n̶.

Or maybe I don’t need someone
Maybe I just need myself
to keep my head above water
to keep my healthy mind.
I write clichés
But that’s how I feel
Does this happen to many people?
Why then do I feel so alone?
Maybe I’m as equal to all
Thinking that my problems are greater than all.
I am a dramatic girl.
Yes, I am.
Maybe I need help
But I do not want help
Maybe I am depressed
but I do not want to be depressive
maybe my sanity has gone
before I finish this poem
Yes, she’s gone
yes, in the second line.
Posted on Tumblr OneMudBlood  in 2016.10.26

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