You keep telling me words
That I can't understand

Because my brain has checked out
I am no longer there

People keep talking to me
But I can't hear their voice

My head hurts
From all of this warbled noice

My heartbeat has slowed
I wanted to go to bed

But you are stopping me
From resting my weary head

You can always tell a self destructive writer
By their poetry

Because sometimes they are redundant
And other times they are expressing pain

But they always tell a story of being hurt
And locked into their own head

But this my dear, is why they write
Because the person in their head is trying to get out

Self destructive writers
Are usually dark

But when they are light
They tell you how perfect you are

So that you don't do the same thing
That they did to themselves

Self destructive writers
Don't want you to make their scars
On your arms

there was a time
when i was enough for myself . . .
and i do not remember the exact moment
when i decided that i was no longer good.

there is nothing more bittersweet
than a Thursday morning in October
where the air is just as frozen as the time

I finally broke down every wall for You

And you picked up every single stone
Just to throw it back at me.........

Now that you’re gone, the fire will extinguish
Atleast that is what you thought
The fire is still burning, sparking as well
Then the rain cloud of tears rains down
It spreads the sparks with every rain drop
Till the fire gets bigger and more aggressive
Now that you’re gone, the burns will get worse

Black futures -
not a month
not a meme
not hash-tagged and gone
past in a blur.

Futures built
on the foundation of the past,
but rising past past expectations
and housing future generations
of black lives that answer back
and build better black futures.

The future's bright.
The future's colourful.

"why are you writing
poems and prose?"
asked a guy out of nowhere
while staring at my pen

"to breathe."
I answered with a smile

for writing lets me indulge
with metaphors and similes

it is my escape
the key toward my fantasies

Look! Today is no longer grey!
Look! The ashen clouds've gone away!
Nothing can break me today!

Look! The birds are singing again,
Look! Just watch the branches dance!
And with a very simple glance,
You'll see that nature is sadness' bane.

The vibrant flowers bloom once more,
The wind's hand is no longer cold,
The sun shines with all his might,
I am no longer filled with spite...