genie genie  in a bottle, please answer my wishes.

I wish that mama can come back…

But wait  I can’t wish for  that, because she’s still in my heart.

The trauma raised me into this  impeccable sculpture.  One that is praised, and valued.
So who am I to wish for my greatest landmark, my favorite statue to come to life.

as this great statue of liberation that I represent , who am I to wish to wish for your life back, when you’re already living as an ornament attached to to my life tree.

My wish is granted because even in death your love is a symbol for unconditional love.
You’re in a space that I so desperately pray for; so who am I to wish you back?

You gave me a goodbye ma, and for that I have a new wish; and that new wish is for your ultimate safety/ salvation.

She was flawed like us all,
Yet she was perfect.

Her words crushed you like boulder,
Yet at times they were the only melodies.

Her ways could be wicked, yet she’s the
Only comfort you seek.

She has displayed weakness,
yet she’s is the strongest person yk.

she gave her final words,
and you broke.

Yet those same words
gave you the will to live.


Thank you Monica Miller,
my yet, and my  mother.

My body is stained in blood
Down to the core,
As the poison leaks from my
Nervous System.

My wounded brain is bleeding.
Forming red rashes, red emotions,
And red torment.
All I see is red, and that’s because
it’s the only Way I’ll be able to
identify the pain.

As my lightskin receives damage,
It is covered in an array of colors.
The Scars are my tattoos.

As my broken mind tries to comprehend
What is happening my emotions
Turn to rage.

Emotions soaked in hatred from the depths of the black, memories bleached  in white, only brung down from the oh so sorrowful blues.

I want to see the world in a vibrant green, or yellow, so that I can finally feel alive.

My base is red which leads to black, which leads to white memories, which leads to blue emotions, which then leads to a portrait of a tumultuous life.

My masterpiece will come after I cleanse my palette.

Loving you was my greatest flaw, yet the pain was so beautiful .  

I held myself captive trying to find freedom within your embrace.

I’m glad you’ve released me because i didn’t have the strength to let you go.

I’ll burn this poem, in a fiery pit of celebration that signifies my growth.

I can finally think about  me, and only me.

your love is burnt into my memories and it turned my feelings into ash.

I hate humans, the most flawed beings that roam.

They consider the victors win as true peace, instead of actual unity.

They lie in the name of love, instead of loyalty and integrity.

They revel in the chaos, instead of actually helping, trying to help.

They are personification of the meaning flawed.

But I have a greater flaw.

I have a mental illness, so if I think a human is flawed.

What does that make me?

I haven’t found the answer yet, but can you handle this struggle?

Life has clipped my wings, yet you still fear
The day I fly.

My bundles of chirps sound like a masterpiece of a song , yet they signify my cries for help.

No matter what tune I play, others seem to dance to the agony.

Now i know  what it feels like to be a caged bird, to feel Stashed away.

Left wishing for the day that I learn how to fly.

I’ll always harbor harsh feelings to my captors, and The harsh feelings that I harbor are aimed at myself for never leaving my nest.

I am human yet my cages are mental illnesses, psychiatric wards, and pills.

I truly wished I learned how to be strong at a young age.

Now I pray that my body withers away, because it’s destined to be stuck in a cage.

If I were deaf
I would Still hear
the whispers

Causing me to
become Blind
Making me question?
Will I ever see the light again

So used to
The smell of
Rotting corpses
Even roses
Carry that
Stench

Tastes so horrid
I refuse to
take a bite of
      Life

Showing signs
Of suic……
Ive lost all
touch with reality

I’m senseless