Does my blackness offend you?
Is my hair too curly for you?
Are my hips too wide for you?

My dark brown skin glows with all the melanin I have been gifted with.
My lucious thick hair is filled with curls that bounce with every stride I take forward, away from oppression.
My hips sway perfectly with the drums beating in the air of the Mother land.

Does my athletism bother you?
Is my intelligence too much for you?
Are my people beneath you?

My athletic feats have been studied by generations of white Americans who have hoped to find an extra ligament in my leg.
My intelligence has been the reason for many inventions all over the world.

My people will rise above , always have , always will.

My people will be given justice where it's due.

My people will be heard , just like the drums from the Mother land.

Trapped inside a box.
Everywhere I look,
I see confined emptiness.
My limbs are yearning for a moment's stretch.
Trapped inside a box.
My arms are rendered useless,
as they lay squeezed against my sides.
My neck is straining in it's cramped position.
Trapped inside a box.
I cannot breathe,
my heart pounds against my chest hoping for freedom,
How can one be trapped inside of a small box, when their body is in the midst of a wide open plain?
Anxiety.
It is a box.
A box that cripples rationality ,
trapping you.

Oh, Icarus
Primary example of the human folly.
The wings and feathers destroyed by the heat of a sun you thought you could bear.

Oh, Icarus
You are a foolish one.
Excessive ambition never makes it to see the light of day.
You had too much hope in yourself.
Your pride took you away.

Oh, Icarus
The words of Daedalus fell upon death ears.
Failure to heed to a warning was your demise.

Oh, Icarus
Wings so mighty and beautiful.
What I would do to fly so high.
To soar above the clouds and meet the beautiful rays.

Oh, Icarus
Fly back to the sun.
Melt your wax and ruin your feathers, once more.

Oh, Icarus
We need someone brave enough to fly close to the sun.
Plummet into the ocean again after , if you must.
Every human here is lily-livered.

The Hopeless Romantic...

You lust me,
But you love me not.

I want to know your deepest secrets, and the passions that make your heart soar.
I want your love so much..
oh so much,
that it brings me to the floor.

I want to sleep next to you,
and write sweet poems about you when I can't sleep through the night.

Then I want to read them to you,
while you're awake,
So you can hold me tight.

But instead you choose the other girl.
Because you always do.

You'll swipe up on my pictures,
and tell me sweet nothings you think I want to hear...
Lust after my body,
as if my mind wasn't here.

I'm the girl you lust after,
not the girl you love.

I'm a hopless romantic,
because I know i'll never find someone who loves me for me...

"You're next up"

Anxiety,
Doubt,
And ultimately the inevitable reality of what's to come fills your head.

You're next up on life's rollercoaster ride,
but you don't know what lays ahead.
You hear the laughter,
screams,
and shouts,
but you don't see it yet.
You don't know what it's about.
Instead of enjoying the wait -
you stand there,
guessing your fate.

But now it's your time.

"Sit tight"

"Keep your arms and feet inside the ride at all times"

So you buckle in -
Not quite ready,
and as the ride takes off,
you sit back steady.
You laugh as you go up & down,
side & around.
The exhilaration of moving at such speeds,
seem to be all you really need.

But then you **** too hard -
Arms and legs nearly flailing outside the ride.
You begin to feel scared,
but you have too much pride.

Then you drop down 400 feet,
the only thing the leaves your body is a deafening scream.
Fear,
Anxiety,
And uncertainty of your willpower to finish this ride set in.

You didn't know you would feel so scared,
when you chose to begin.
And just as you calm down,
another drop happens,
making you wish you'd  hit the ground,
just to escape this rollercoaster ride.
Because buckled in,
there is nowhere to hide.
You wait for it to get better,
but it only gets worse.
You start crying and seeing visions of a hearse.
You see one last loop ahead,
wondering if this is when you'll be pronounced dead.

But you make it through,
upside down and all,
only seeing good things ahead -
so now you're glad you didn't fall.

The rest of the ride is smooth sailing,
no drops,
no arms flailing.
Just the wonders of life taking you to new heights,
but you're no longer scared.
You've been through all the terrors & frights.

So when it's all over,
said & done,
you can look back at the rollercoaster.
With pride now,
instead of fear,
encouraging the young who dare to travel near.

Zoloft,
This is a love letter.
Please do not get this confused.
You & my serotonin became infused.
I love you,
But I love you not.
It's almost like my old self,
That I forgot.

You take away the pain.
Only some of it,
The rest remains.

But I love you more than you know,
You've helped me in ways that don't show.

You are the drug that I've been chasing
Coke,
Acid,
Alcohol,
Need some replacin'..

But-
I hate your manipulation,
The way you think I need you,
Everyday,
No hesitation.

You starve me.
You beat me.
Make me physically weak..

But instead of leaving you,
I take you everyday,
Every week.

Because of you,
I've stopped & smelled the roses,
Had my first smile in awhile,
Took some pictures,
Held some poses.

But yet,
I know this can't go on forever.

I'm not sure when our last kiss will be,
Sometimes I only feel you & me,
Other times I feel the urge to leave

But I'll stay with you for now,
Because I don't know better.

The only reason I'm alive,
Is because you help me survive.

Don't feel so special

I've been abused,
Forcefully used,
Yet you think you can blow my fuse?
Don't feel so special.

I've hacked & sliced at my own skin,
Barely living,
So thin,
But you worry if you hurt my grin,
Don't feel so special.

You could have called me every bad name under the sun,
shot me with a gun.
But I've hurt me, more than you've ever could.
So don't feel so special.

I don't need closure,
Unless its from stitches,
Mending the pieces I've broke from myself.
But the damage you've done,
Is nothing I haven't done to myself.

So don't feel sorry.
Hold your tears of guilt upon a shelf.
They mean nothing to me,
But only for yourself.

So don't feel so special.
You are nothing but another person who dared to hurt me,
But only hurt themself.

It's been awhile since I thought about love.
I closed myself off to it,
And have yet to open up that door.

But I think about it now.
That must count for something,
Or maybe nothing.
But it's on my mind.

Love is a vulnerable place,
so intimate,
it's hard to find.
Made impossible to search for,
behind the door.

The one I closed.
Because I was too scared of the unknown.

But I have hope that i'll open it again one day.

I'll take it one day at a time.

Goosebumps rise upon my thin exhausted arms.
The wind , harsh against the little warmth radiating from inside.
It's hard to see through the murky fog of the world.
A cold , dark  world.
There's no rhyme nor reason to continue to exist.
It wanted me out and now it has nearly succeeded.
The only thing keeping me here is the sound inside my head.
The persuasion of reason.

I never write love poems.
I think it's because I'm afraid to

open up & feel so vulnerable.
I'd have to look inside my heart,
to write something beautiful,
intimate,
and heartfelt.
I'd have to embrace the warmth,
and reflect on the lingering traces,
of the hand once in mine.
The love that once had it's time.

I'm afraid to confront those feelings.
I'm afraid to commit to love,
even if it's the everlasting type,
where two stars collide,
in the afterlife,
like they did milleniums before.

I've been hurt so deeply.
In ways I haven't felt before.
I'm not sure I can take it anymore.

But I dream of not being afraid of love.
One day,
I'll write love poems.
I'll find the person worth writing lines,
and stanzas about.
One that makes me forget we're in a drought.

Such a typical rehearsed line . . .
But, I tell myself exactly what to say,
If a stranger ask if I'm okay.
I don't like it when people try to pry,
because I won't open up even if I'm going to cry.
The pain I hold inside is personal to me,
it's too dark and scary for me to let others see.
So to everyone I say , "I'm fine"
yet I know I'm poisoned swine.

I wish apologies were rewinds
that could go back to that place in time.
& make everything alright.

To go back to that kiss,
In your arms,
And feel blanketed in your warmth...

But instead I think back to that point in time,
Where unfortunately there is no rewind.
Forgiveness is in my heart,
But it also remembers to tread lightly.
It makes me think.

Think about you.
Think about me.
Think about the way things used to be.

I wish apologies could take it all back,
but in reality there are no rewinds.
Thankfully,
Things continuously move forward.
Even with trepedity.

My soul is broken.
Yet, I remember when I was bubbly amd outspoken.
The innocence of life once filled my heart,
yet the sickness of life's tragedies tore me apart.
The light that once radiated inside of me,
was battered and bruised despite every plea.
The outside pandemonium filled my ears til they bled & went numb.
All I heard from then on was a painful cacophony of cognitive dissonance in the form of an eery hum.
The only life left is inside of my vein,
as this bout of depression drives me insane.
But once I leave this earth my body will be a token -
until then my soul is broken.

Euphoria takes you to places above the clouds,
Floating with the wind.
Not a ****** pleasure,
Just a visceral high.

Clarity within the mind,
The heart unrestricted in the body.
With a gentleness of child.

Euphoria floods the system deep,
Breaking past all levees of pain.
Weightlessness.

I'm a Feminist
But
My ovaries are in pain.

I'm a woman
But
I don't feel connected to my main vein.
I'm bleeding in places much deeper than my-

I'd say the word
But i'll refrain.

Instead of being taught to embrace,
I've learned to drown
In
The
Pain
Of
Being
A
woman.

Soft
Weak
Instead of
strong
And unique.

Instead of taking agency,
I'm treated like an antique.
Fragile,
Even though i've survived
Everything men told me...

(I'll leave you to ponder but
won't describe. )

I love being a woman,
But it's a love/hate relationship
I can't lie. 
I take pride
But when my head hits the pillow,
I do cry.

In fact, I mourn.

I mourn the excitement society had for me when I was born.
Now i'm rejected,
Because of children i haven't ejected,
Penises i haven't erected,
a husband i haven't selected.

A pariah if you will,
But i have my own will.
Something women are shamed for because we feel,
Feel the need to take back our power
Because if we don't,
Someone else will,
Tell us
What to wear,
How to heal,
**** our souls until we cant feel,
Leaving us empty
Alone and afraid
Only to arrest us for a feminist parade.
I love being a woman
But my heart is in pain,
I find solace in the depths of a woman,
So I know i'll remain...

Nourish the minds all around.
Yours may lack a strong foundation
easily withered
Easily shaken- concussed.
But nourish the minds all around.
They will give your mind reason to thrive.
They will return the favor.
But if it's too late , the wisdom given to the minds will not perish but enter the everlasting cycle of apportioning to other minds.
Wisdom is knowledge.
lack of wisdom is lack of knowledge.

I can barely remember the last time I felt seen by a man.
Truly seen for what I was.
Passed the partying.
Passed the thirst traps.
Passed my naked body.

I carry a depth you can't see from the surface.
I carry pain you can never quite grasp.
I carry emotions with such passion,
Love is one to name.
I carry many parts of me hidden behind a self-constructed ivory tower.
But you saw it.

Briefly.

I had never felt so exposed,
But I reveled in it.
You were everything I thought I would never find,
But you were never mine.
Just a glimmer of hope.

When I step,
I no longer drag darkness into the light.
I let go of the pain weighing me down,
To learn how to lift myself back up.

Taboo.
Forbidden love.
Never meant to be,
But can that be true?
What stars in the sky reject it?
The law of gravity does not address it.
Free for all.
But why doesn't it feel free for me?
Taboo.
I can taste it on my tongue,
But why must I stop?
Why does this feel wrong,
When it is so right.
Taboo.
Euphoric connection,
Not a ****** relationship,
Just an intellectual one.
Taboo.
Years should not make a difference,
It's a sign of wisdom beyond my years,
Of which I want to embrace
Taboo.
Six years.
Taboo.
Lover of my mind.
Corrupt the rules.

I wish I was a normal girl.
The kind that smiles while she dances around in circles,
Having the wind laughing along whipping her dress around.
The kind that has happy thoughts swirling around in her head,
as she looks up at the stars in the sky.
Instead I cry.
I wish I was a normal girl.
The kind that giggles after every funny sounding word,
Or spends hours on end laughing with her girls.
Instead I cry.
I wish I was a normal girl.
I mourn the loss of my beautiful self.
I used to laugh.
I used to play.
I used to run.
All I had to do was simply wish the bad thoughts away,
but now they taunt me for they're here to stay.
I wish I was a normal girl.
But I'm plagued with depression,
A depression that ***** all my beautiful life away.
Before I pray the lord my soul to take,
I hope I can be a normal girl.
Just to feel alive once more,
And enjoy the beauty of life again,
Much like I did when I was four.

Dear Suicide,

Please wrap me up in your warmth,
breathe your breath into mine,
fill me with a love I can never forget.
Please take me away,
hold my sorrows.
I'll hold yours too.
But only as much as I can bare,
you are much stronger.
Please wrap me tighter til I suffocate in your love,
don't let me go.
I do not want life.
I want your death,
sweet soothing darkness.

Get out of my headspace ...
It's too clouded.
I'm no longer able to decipher the view outside ,
my eyes are no longer a window,
the brain just a sham of the thoughts once creatively flowed.
A raging storm within.
How long will this go on?
days ? weeks? months? years?
or perhaps maybe even an eternity?
It's a blizzard unfit for humanity ,
my deepest innermost thoughts are frozen solid ,
no longer spirits they once were,
you need to leave.
This headspace of mine cannot bare it any longer.
It may spread to my body.
The cold is numbing,
dehabiliting to the mind.
Imagine what it could do to my body,
halt all movement,
solidify the blood in every vain,
creating a state of frozen paralysis.
The only outcome is death.
Please leave my headspace.
You are no longer welcome.
These chills down my spine are a foreshadowing of the destruction to come to my temple.

My presence is a burden.
The world has no room for a worthless body,
breathing but not mentally present-
each stroke of the razor,
slowly relieving me-
each drop of blood taking my burden off of someone's shoulders.
I was never meant to be here,
so I know the end is almost near.
This pain I feel inside,
sits right next to where emptiness resides.
Some live beautiful lives,
But me, I know I'm meant to die.

I remember the joys of childhood,
When even the bad days turned good.
From the times when I was drinking from the water hose,
To running around the house wearing
my Rocawear clothes.

I remember smiling at the sun.
And laughing while running away from my brother's bb gun.

I remember gleefully swimming in my pool,
To being daddy's helper carrying his tools.

I remember the simplicity of life,
Without the pain and the strife.
When my only worry was to catch the ice cream man in the nick of time -
When I knew the jonas brothers songs down to every rhyme -

I remember winning my very first track meet.
My happiness radiating like gold from my skin in the heat.

I remember happiness.
The most beautiful feeling welling up inside of my former self,
As though I would spontaneously combust if I wasn't myself.
But those are all just memories,
seemingly from a past life that has been reduced down to a reverie.

I want to feel true happiness again flowing inside of me,
but until then all I can do is plea.

To never be good enough is an indescribable feeling.
No matter how much you want happiness, you feel like you never deserve it.
People can reassure you , but deep down in your heart , you know it's true.
You're useless
You're good for nothing.
You can't do even the simplest mundane task without feeling worthless.
The world would be a better place without you.
Your existence means less than a grain of salt.
With no rhyme nor reason,  why are you still here?
Are you meant to serve a greater purpose?
Maybe.
You just can't fathom it yet.
Your mind is useless too.

To know you're by yourself makes one feel
alone.
Nobody is in reach , yet they are inches away.
Breathing the same air , with lips centimeters apart,
But you still feel alone inside.
An incurable sensation.
Nobody at all.
Yet they are arms reach away.
My eyes deceive me .
There are people everywhere,
But my soul senses otherwise.
Going through the motions,
My soul walks on a desolate plain.
Drained.
Cold.
Lacking basic security.
My soul feels alone.
There's no room for it to thrive.
Only endless plains.
Plains that lack even the most subtle indicators of life.
All alone.

They say energy cannot be created or destroyed,
simply poured out into another person.
A shared cycled of movement.

Keep it kinetic,
or it'll never reach its potential.

It is to be ..
Shared wisely -
Never to be graced upon forces darker than your own.
Valued highly -
Gifted upon the likes of a throne.
And held tightly-
Where you can feel it down to your bone.

Energy is a man's life force.
The power behind every thought & action,
bringing forth like energy-
in the law of attraction.

I feel trapped inside my head,
speaking a language nobody can understand.
As I pour my heart out,
casting my pearls upon the people around me,
they turn away.
Swine.
My words don't matter to them.
They never did.
As I muster the courage to try to speak up again,
I realize I'm alone.
Just one last pearl left for company.

My demons were all chasing after me.
Their maliciously distorted faces,
and chilling taunts created pandemonium in the cold air.
As I ran away to hide,
I felt my legs moving at a painful speed.
But I pushed on despite the stabbing pains pulsing at my sides,
and blisters forming on me feet.
I couldn't let my demons catch me,
because then that would mean defeat.
Just as I was nearing my safe place,
I stumbled onto one of life's stepping stones.
As I fell onto the floor,
I heard my demons gnashing at their teeth,
ready to devour their helpless victim.
I began to push myself up off the beaten road,
ready to accept my damning fate,
but as I looked upon my demons-
I saw nothing.

Sweet sound of bitter silence.
My breath echos with every exhalation.
I can almost hear the course of my blood as it flows through my veins.
Silence.
No more tormenting voices.
No more pandemonium around.
Just my blissful ignorance and I.
Wasting away in this bitter beautiful silence.
A silence so pure , I could die in it's arms

Its a process slower than I'd like,
much like a young girl learning how to ride her very first bike.

Healing.

I can feel the hope wiggle in my toes,
though my head is still filled with a plague of darkness drowning in my woes.

Healing.

I can't see light at the end of the tunnel just yet,
but I can feel its warmth trying to find my hardened silhoutte,

It's called healing.
The process of new growth after something has been broken down,
much like my spirit beaten to the ground.
But I have to keep pushing,
living for a brighter day.
Hopefully all this will mean something,
even if it means nothing til the next life,
A place where my body and my mind aren't in constant strife.

I've began the healing process,
even if the finish line is still far away.
But all I can do is hope for a brighter day.

This depression is my insanity.
It follows me,
watches my every move.
It hears every creak,
spies every movement,
never leaves me on my own.
It's my shadow.
I cannot get rid of it.
This depression is my insanity.
It molds me,
shapes me into it's darkness,
never letting me see the light.
It's a possession of the sickest kind.
It won't let me breathe.
It won't let me be.
This depression is my insanity.
It's my puppet master,
holding me by it's strings,
as it drags me along,
putting on a sick show for others all around.
My depression is my insanity.

I can yell at my pen,
pull at my hand,
but there's no words this paper can comprehend.
My thoughts are stuck in a box,
stubbornly clustered together,
not willing to talk.
I try to persuade them,
but they crave my inner creativity,
not the monotonous reality I live in.
They want to dance in the rain,
swim in the ocean,
or even find a mysterious love potion.
But I can't take them there -
I don't know how to piece them together,
It is as if my artistic streak vanished in thin air.

Inebriation
This liquid numbs my soul.
It gives me strength in its content , as
I no longer have any.
It's strong burn down my throat
allows for me to feel something.
Anything.
No need to chase a welcomed guest.
I'm afraid to feel-
so I mask.

in pulls
in shots
in any form I can have it.

The inebriation is euphoric.
Unlike any other feeling ,
This liquid numbs my soul .

There are many things I drink to achieve this state of inebriation.
The strongest liquor of them all-
Love.

I want to be my own breath of fresh air.
I want to be that breath you take,
after you've been trying to hold it in for so long.
That cool cotton air that comforts your soul,
when all you've ever breathed was the world's bitter rancid odor.
I want to be that breath,
letting me know I'm still here.

I want to be my own calm in a storm.
I want my sheer existence to be enough to keep me grounded -
despite the troubled waters around me.
I want my purpose to give me reason to never fear getting swept away into the chaos.

I want to have inner peace.
An unshakeable feeling of calm reassurance that I am going to be okay,
no matter the circumstances around me,
I want to feel okay.

Because at the moment,
I feel like I'm going to decay.
No matter the circumstances around me,
I always feel like I won't live another day.
I'm still holding my breath.
I still fear the storm.
But I promise, I don't want to anymore.

For the first time,
I realize I'm breathing.
Then I wonder if it's a fluke,
Sometimes the mind is deceiving.

The pain my chest once carried,
Gone with the wind.
I fear it'll come back,
So I wait-
levels of anxiety rising within.

When I look up,
I see that the cloud is finally gone.
But I'm still in disbelief,
because it's been there all along.
I can't remember a day that it didn't rain,
Until today.
Where is the pain?

I was consumed in it,
As it was the only surefire thing in my life.
Constant.
Never fleeting.
Til today.

Good riddance.
I'll still wear my rain coat,
keep a hand on my chest,
count every breath,
but for now I'm blessed.

Nobody can hate me -
more than I hate myself.
No words are harsh enought to cut like mine,
deep enough to pierce my heart,
but it's okay.
I already have.
Nobody can hurt me,
the way that I hurt myself.
A slap,
or fist,
is nothing like a slice on the wrist -
that I inflict on myself.
Your words can't break me,
your fist can't shake me,
your lies can't hurt me.
Because I -
break myself.
shake myself.
hurt myself.
and most of all,
hate myself.

More than Just *****. .
In fact,
I'm wet when I cry.
Tears stream down my face as I wish to die.
I can put you to bed like a sweet lullaby,
not with my body,
but the sweetness of my mind.
My essence does not lay between two thighs,
instead it beats-
sheltered in my chest.
My heart is made of gold,
pure and fine,
but hard and cold.
I'm not just a body,
but a mind too.
My beautiful thoughts are the deepest part of me,
once you open up,
they will grip you tight enough to make you dive in.
My warmth is all around me,
not just in between my thighs.
But you don't know that yet,
you think it's full of lies.
My heart grows colder as it waits to be touched,
but nobody ever gets close enough.

But once they do,
I'll bring them to ******,
with all my love poured down on them.

All my demons coming to play.
One tells me to slit my throat-
The other tells me to pray.

One tells me to bleed.
The other tells me 'sweet dreams'.
I cannot trust one or the other-
Maybe even both.
But I cannot escape them.
One sits on my bed.
The other is inside my head.
I'm not psychotic or even hallucinating,
just hiding from my demons.

I am a rose growing from the concrete.
Already birthed into negativity,
just finding a way to bloom in hard times.
Harder than concrete could ever be.
So why do you want to hurt me?
I've already struggled.
No need to throw a stone at an innocent rose.
I've already cried.
No need to step on me.
Please don't hurt me anymore.
You'll crush a beautiful rose who made herself grow from the water of her fighting will.
My demise belongs to me,
not a person looking for an easy victim.
I'm the only rose left on this sidewalk.
All the others rotted in the sun,
Or got caught up in life's daily stampede.
But me,
I lived to plant my seed.
So leave me be,
Don't even pluck my petals,
Or stand too close.
Just leave me alone to my peace,
nestled into the grooves of the concrete to which I was born.

Happiness is filtered through a long silver pump,
where it is torn apart,
then crushed together in a lump.

Sadness is poured in a giant mixing bowl,
where it is strained out,
then dropped into the black dump hole.

Anger is stacked on top,
piled in pieces,
only to be lit by a flame the size of a drop.

Love is demolished on sight,
battered and bruised,
leaving a stench of bitterness out of  spite.

The emotional dump is a place where emotions go,
when they've been let loose -
out of control.

When they've grown outside the human heart,
and reaked havoc like an art.

It's a place where emotions die in a flash,
placed next to all the world's gunk and gloop and unwanted trash.

Why can't you love me back?
My hearts beats for you.
Everything I've done is for you.
Every move I make,
and turn I take,
leads to you.

But you don't love me back.

The love I've shown you...
countless days,
nights,
hours,
minutes,
seconds,
I've spent with you-
mean nothing if you can't love me back.

All my dreams lead back to you.
I can't think of anything but you.
You posess me -
body
mind,
and soul.
And I just want you to know,
I have to go,
if you're love for me doesn't show.

We have so much history -
At first it was bliss,
but now it's misery.
I wonder how sweet it is to be loved by you...

Can you please show me?
Give me a reason to stay,
I want to wait and see,
how great we can really be.
I'm not done with you yet,
although I should be.

But I still remember that first kiss,
the first time our lips touched...

But when I showed you my heart,
you could not show me yours.
No matter how deep I dig,
and loyal I stay,
you're love for me-
isn't here today.

Why am I always the second option?
But not the first?

I want to be loved.
I want to give love.

But instead,
I find hurt.
So I give hurt.