Am I the monster I’ve been hiding from?
Or the echo of screams I hush in my lungs?
Can’t outrun a shadow stitched to my spine,
Can’t fake a sunrise when the dark’s still mine.

Each time I stitch the wound,
it splits somewhere new
a bleeding trail down a road I never knew.
I thought I was healing, thought I was whole,
but maybe I’ve just been patching a soul
with tape made of hope and silence and sin,
walking a path where I leave pieces of skin.

I turn around,
and the girl I was is scattered
like glass in the gravel,
every step shatters.

Was I ever moving forward?
Or just spinning in place,
gasping for breath in God’s empty space?
Do I restart this war with no map in hand,
or do I sink in silence like wet-packed sand?

If I drown this time
will the weight let go?
Or will my goodbye
just echo below?

I know why I feel like a misfit
It’s not a flaw, it’s a sign.
The world never knew what to do with me,
But heaven had me in mind.

I walk with a limp, not for pity,
But proof that I fought to survive.
They called me too much, too broken, too raw,
But somehow—I’m still alive.

I never fit in with the polished,
Never played by their rules or their game.
But even in silence, and out of their sight,
My Shepherd still whispered my name.

He left the ninety-nine just for me,
The one they’d already dismissed.
I wasn’t a prize to the people I loved,
But to Him, I was deeply missed.

The sheep with the thorns in her wool,
The wild eyes, the trembling knees
He wrapped me in grace, dirt and all,
And whispered, “You still belong to Me.”

So now when I feel like a misfit,
Like I’m drifting too far from the shore,
I remember the One who came running,
When no one else opened the door.

Let them keep their clean reputations
Their comfort, their gold, their acclaim.
I’ll keep my scars and my freedom,
And the power that lives in His name.

I’m the story that grace made holy,
The outcast He chose to adore.
I know why I feel like a misfit…
I was the one He left the 99 for.

There’s a monster living under my skin,
It hums lullabies in a voice like sin.
It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t roar.
It just waits... behind the door.

It’s soft-spoken, wears my smile,
Walks in my steps, stays awhile.
It knows the cracks behind my eyes,
Where all the dead dreams lie.

It isn’t sharp—it’s patient and slow,
It dances in places no one should go.
It sips on memories like bitter wine,
And chews on thoughts that once were mine.

It curls around my mother’s name,
And whispers that I’m just the same.
It counts the days I’ve held my breath,
Then offers comfort dressed like death.

People say, “You’re healing now,”
But they don’t see the sacred vow—
Me and it, we made a truce,
It feeds on pain—I stay the noose.

I try to scream, but it just grins,
Wearing my face like borrowed skin.
And every time I think I’m free,
It locks the door and swallows me.

You wouldn’t know it to look in my eyes—
But something in me never dies.
I laugh. I love. I play pretend...
But the monster’s always watching…
waiting…
for the end.

When we first met,
I truly thought I was Cinderella—
not because I needed saving,
but because somehow,
even in the mess,
you made it all feel magical.

The nights felt golden.
Your words were spells,
and I believed every one.

We did everything right.
Or at least,
we did everything the way love told us to—
with open hearts and reckless hope.
But the world had other plans.
The odds…
they were never in our favor.

You were beautiful chaos.
You swept me off my feet,
and I let you.
Not because I couldn’t stand on my own—
but because it felt so good to lean.

With time,
that magic faded into something colder.
You called me crazy.
But was I really?

Or were you just tired of hiding
the pieces of yourself I finally started to see?

Yes—
I’m an addict.
Not because I wanted to be.
But because somewhere along the way,
I mistook numbness for peace,
and love for escape.

If I could go back—
God, I’d undo the blow.
I’d pull that night from the sky
and rewrite it without the high.
But I was in love.
Or I thought I was.
Was it real?
Or just another illusion
you let me fall into?

Maybe you always knew
how this would end.

But now,
this is my story.
And I finally see that.

So I sit with the ache,
the ruin,
the memories we buried in dust and denial—
and I do the one thing
you never thought I could:

I choose myself.

I edit the pages,
tear out the lies,
press the pain into poetry.
And with shaking hands,
I close the chapter
where I loved you more than I ever loved me.

This isn’t a fairytale.

But it’s still a love story.
A different kind.
The kind where the girl walks away—
not bitter,
not broken—
but whole.

And ready for her sequel.

I forgive like rain,
soft and steady, washing wounds clean
even when they were carved into me.
I pour grace like water into cups
that never once filled mine.

I am the open door,
the light in others’ storms,
the hands that hold,
the voice that soothes
and yet no one stays
to check if I’m still breathing
after the healing is done.

Heaven-sent, they say,
but even angels fall silent
when no one listens to their cries.

I gave pieces of myself
to build bridges, mend hearts,
carry burdens too heavy
for broken backs to hold.
But who sees me?
Who carries me?

I am not weak
no, I’m made of grief and grit,
a woman stitched from suffering
and stubborn hope.
But I am tired.
Tired of being the strong one
in rooms full of silence
when I need saving too.

No one could walk
the warpath I’ve walked
and still offer love with open palms.
No one could break this much
and still want to make others whole.

And that’s the tragedy.
That’s the ache.
Not that I can’t forgive them,
but that I forgot how to choose me.

Now I’m stuck
on the bathroom floor
knees bruised, cheeks soaked,
whispering, “God, why oh why me again?”
But the truth settles in,
soft and sharp like scripture:
Why not me?

He chose me,
to be a light in the shadows,
even when I flicker,
even when my flame feels faint.
Because even when I’m breaking,
I’m still loving.
Even when I’m bleeding,
I’m still giving.

My heart
no matter how worn,
how torn
won’t stop beating for others.
And God sees that.
He knows the weight I carry
is proof of the warrior I am.

So here I go again
off the floor,
out of the sorrow,
not because I’m healed,
but because I’m called.

Because even a woman like me,
drenched in tears and tired prayers,
can rise with grace,
and walk again
like she was never on the ground.

You wear that name like a badge,
but all I see is a coward in drag—
maskin’ your shame in declarations,
pretendin’ you’re a man of patience,
while your truth drips venom
in the silence between your statements.

You fooled the world with your fake-*** smile,
but I was the one who stayed through the trials—
through every slammed door,
every bruise on my soul,
every lie you swore
just to keep control.

You said "family,"
but treated us like property,
talkin’ ‘bout love while poisoning legacy.
You tried to dim my light
so yours could shine,
but baby—
you ain’t divine,
you just a dark cloud
floatin’ in borrowed time.

You played daddy when it looked good in court,
but where were you
when the cries came at night like a storm?
When they asked for you,
I held the silence in my mouth like a blade
and swallowed the ache—
so they wouldn’t inherit your hate.

I begged peace.
You gave war.
I offered olive branches,
you threw stones and slammed doors.
Thought the judge could define me?
Nah—
my strength ain’t on your paperwork.
It’s in every **** morning
I wake up and still put my children first.

You speak in perjury
'cause the truth don't live in your lungs,
you forget:
I birthed our daughters—
but I BECAME their home.

You stalk, you scream,
you bottle your rage—
then toss it like glass
on our sacred space.
But even when you showed up
like a devil in the driveway—
I stood between you and their innocence
like a lioness mid-pray.

I loved you once—
now I pity the boy.
'Cause a real man doesn’t weaponize
what he helped create
just to destroy.

So this is for you,
the villain in your own **** tale—
a boy in a man’s skin,
scared to face where he failed.
I don’t need revenge,
I don’t seek your name—
‘Cause God’s already seen
the heart you tried to profane.

And me?
I'm rising.
Burned, not broken.
Angry, but chosen.
And every lie you told
just proved how loud truth’s spoken.

When too good to be true
Meets the woman with her glass half-empty,
She shuffles from room to room
Quiet footsteps across forgotten floors,
Piecing back the hearts of the wounded,
Wounds only her spirit could truly read.

Darkness was her birth canal,
But somehow, light slipped through the cracks
Not in bursts, but in soft, stubborn glimmers.
She was beauty.
She was strength.
But beneath her ribcage lived the dust
Fragments of battles fought in silence,
Memories she swept under her own smile.

She stitched together the pain of others
Like patchwork faith,
Each tear, each scream she swallowed,
Just to feel a sense of form
A body built from borrowed hope.

Another person’s joy
Was a vapor she inhaled like salvation.
But slowly,
She evaporated into “more”
More for them,
Less of her.

And as she disappeared into the invisible
The muse, the healer,
The one who was always “okay”
No one noticed
How loud it is
When a woman vanishes
Without making a sound.

My heart don’t come wrapped in caution tape.
It shows up raw
sleeves soaked in stories
I never got to finish telling.
I don’t do surface.
I don’t do safe.
I love loud,
I break loud,
and I rebuild louder.

I’m impatient
not because I’m spoiled,
but because I’ve spent too many nights
waiting on people
who said forever
but meant "for now."
I know what it feels like
to water dead things,
to fight for answers
in silence that screams.

Still
I chase patience
like it’s the only thing
that’ll keep me from burning bridges
I know I’ll miss.

Some days, I’m soft.
Other days, I’m smoke.
But every day,
I’m real.
And that’s rare.
I don’t hide behind pretty.
I don’t speak in filters.
You get all of me
even the messy parts,
even the parts I haven’t forgiven yet.

I give love like it’s holy.
Like maybe this time
it won’t leave me praying for closure.
I write poems in my mind
while people pretend not to see me
but I keep showing up
like I still believe
in the good kind of love.

My transparency
ain’t weakness.
It’s my rebellion.
It’s my power.
It’s me saying
I’d rather be felt too deep
than swallowed halfway.

So if I’m too much,
good.
That means you saw me.
That means my truth made you flinch.
That means I did exactly
what I came to do
be real,
and be unforgettable.

I’m that mother,
the one they whisper ‘bout when the streetlights hum,
the one who kissed bruises ‘til they bloomed back strong
but baby, test my calm and watch me turn storm.

Play with mine?
I’ll DAWG walk your *** ‘cross every block you claim,
drag your petty down the pavement,
make you swallow every rumor that tried to stain my name.

See, I break my back so mine never gotta bend,
I carry legacies in my hips,
dreams in my palms,
a whole bloodline stitched in my spit.

So come for me ,   come sideways for my mine
and I’ll show you how a mother loves with her claws,
I’ll show you how a saint can shape-shift to a savage,
I’ll make you pray to the same God you laughed at.

‘Cause I’m that mother
sweet enough to bless your plate,
mean enough to flip the whole **** table.
Try me.
Play with mine,
and I’ll DAWG walk your soul back humble.
Watch me.

What is time?
To me, it’s nights that stretch too long,
days that blur together,
me watching clocks tick
while my babies dream of tomorrows
I ain’t even sure I can promise.

What is self?
It’s me
a girl the streets tried to swallow,
a momma the world tried to count out,
a soul still searching,
still writing poems in the dark
like I’m praying out loud.

What is love?
Not the fairy tale,
but the raw kind
when you’re broke, when you’re tired,
when the fridge empty but you still cook up hope
like it’s the only meal left.

And what is waiting?
It’s me,
always holding the pen,
wondering if the next chapter writes itself
or if I gotta bleed the ink again.
Patience ain’t weakness
it’s the grind, it’s survival,
it’s the proof that even standing still
I’m still moving.

I ask life questions,
and it don’t answer straight
just throws me mirrors,
shows me a woman
who’s both the wound and the healer,
both the prayer and the reason to pray.

So yeah,
I’m patiently waiting,
but don’t get it twisted
I’m not waiting for saving.
I’m waiting for the moment
the world sees what I already know:
This story don’t move without me.

You ain’t no preacher, but you saved me still,
Tatted knuckles, cold stare, but your love? Too real.
A Westside gangster with a lovers  soul,
Took a shattered heart and made it whole.

You never flinched when I snapped in pain,
Never judged the storm, just danced in my rain.
I came from chaos, broken, undone,
But you held me like I was second to none.

I got trauma stitched deep in my bones,
But with you? I ain't never felt alone.
You didn’t run from the ruins I hid,
You built a home in a place no one did.

You know my name, but call me "Free,"
Cause that's who I am when you're next to me.
I ain’t soft, but you softened the edge,
Taught me love on a different pledge.

You’re the calm in my temper, the hush in my heat,
My heart had a limp, but you made it beat.
Every wrong thought I’ve ever had—you alredy knew,
But never once threw shame like most dudes do.

You’re that slow roll down the boulevard, High fade, mind sharp, hands scarred.
But gentle with me like I’m glass in your **** ,
Calling me out,  while keeping me calm.

A gangster, yeah, but not just that,
You’re the one who listens when the whole world laughs.
You see through the mess, the mask I wear,
And you kiss my pain like it ain’t even there.

We talk dreams in my late-night smoke,
Laughed through tears when the world went broke.
I ain’t gotta explain the things I done,
You just nod, “That’s why your the one.”

You don’t talk God, but you live like grace,
A warrior with three dots written all in his face.
You fix what you didn’t break, heal what you didn’t touch,
And I never knew a gangster could love like this

So when they ask me why I ride for you...
I say, “He held me down when no one knew.
When my world got dark, he brought that light,
Didn’t save me with words—he just stayed and fought right, and He wants all the Smoke ."

You don’t need halos or heaven’s gate,
Cause you loved me bold and carried the weight.
And I swear on every scar I’ve earned,
With you is the peace I never learned.

So here’s to us—two stories deep,
Two souls that never played for keeps.
You’re my calm, my fight, my truth in the mess,
And in this world of almosts, you're my yes.

Pity the fool that fumbled me
thought love was free,
but nothing real comes without a fee.
Unconditional? Nah, I had conditions
like loyalty, truth,
and no double lives or hidden missions.

My heart ain’t healed,
just stitched up in silence,
still bleeds slow
from past love’s violence.
I gave it whole, I gave it loud
they left me hollow
but still I’m proud.

To the next soul who dares to stay,
I’ll hand you the ruins,
I won’t make you pay—
but know this truth before you fall:
you’re getting pieces,
not the all.

You’ll get my scars, my sacred mess,
my tired eyes that still confess
I want to love, I want it true,
but I no longer chase
what won’t choose me too.

So take what’s left, but tread it right,
I’m done with war disguised as light.
If you love me,
love the broken parts,
‘cause I’ve already died
a thousand starts.

I sit still, but I’m sinking fast,
thoughts race wild, tied to the past.
My chest is tight, my breath feels thin,
the weight of everything crawling in.

I try to reach, but air won’t come
just silence louder than a gun.
And all these questions haunt my head:
"Am I enough?" or better off dead?

Why do they leave, why don’t they stay?
Why does love always walk away?
B said forever, swore he’d fight
but now it’s just me in this endless night.

He was my breath of fresh, my peace,
now I’m choking on what he released.
The one I called home ain’t even near
just echoes of love I can’t hear clear.

And Andres? He plays with fire and lies,
still tryna twist truth, still wearin' disguise.
Three little girls caught in his storm,
while I’m tryna keep their spirits warm.

Lilli, Julie, and Hailey. my world,
my baby girls, my diamonds, my pearls.
And Scarlett, Serenity, and little Jo,
they need their momma more than they know.

But I’m stuck in courts, stuck in pain,
while these men play games that drive me insane.
My arms are empty, my heart’s not whole

God, how much more before you console?

I miss B, I miss peace, I miss being seen,
now I'm just stuck in someone else's dream.
I’m not the villain, I’ve just been tried
by love, by loss, by all that’s died.

And still I rise, though barely so
still fighting battles nobody knows.
If they could see the truth I bear,
they’d know this broken girl still dares

To be a mother, to stand through shame,
to hold her story without the blame.
To scream in silence, to drown in prayer,
and still believe… love’s somewhere there.

The wicked games you played with my heart
were never love—just shadows in the dark.
You dimmed my light,
hoping I’d shrink,
but I rose anyway—
even when I couldn’t think.

I loved you like my weather,
even when the skies turned gray.
I believed in your storms,
stood in the rain,
thinking maybe you'd wash the pain away.

But you didn’t.

You broke me.
Bent me.
Left me bruised in silence.
But I became a mother—
not out of pain,
but defiance.

You made me grace
in the shape of a woman
who’d rather be broken
than let her babies feel abandoned.

I sacrificed dreams
so they’d never lose sleep.
I held the weight of the world
and still found strength
to speak—

Even now.

You lie in courts,
twist truths like vines,
but you can’t erase the footsteps
that were always mine.
I was there,
when you weren't.
I gave love,
when you burnt
every bridge,
every chance,
and still,
I danced
in the fire of your absence.

You keep my daughter
like a weapon,
but I won’t raise war—
my love’s not for show,
it’s rooted in more.

No hate lives here.
Only sorrow that you lost your way.
But I—
I never left.
I never strayed.

Even when you only came in the night,
strung out and searching,
I stayed soft,
I stayed right.

Because my heart?
It don’t close.
It’s a safe place
for broken souls to grow.

But don’t mistake my love for weakness.
Don’t confuse my grace for fear.
Nothing stands in my way—
not lies,
not time,
not even you, my dear.