I am a woman of God, too.

I have worth and value.

I am more than my black skin. I am more than just a laugh.

I’m not here to be an entertainer.

I want to be a wife. I want to be a mother.

I want to help. I want to be a friend.

I try hard, too. I sacrifice. I love my family.

I read the Word. I do my best.

I want to be who you imagine when you lift up that veil.

I suppose I haven’t been painted into those perfect pictures. I haven’t been the model of beauty.

Why must I be written off? Why am I always the last one picked before the start of the game?

I feel like Charlie Brown.

i’m sorry for my hatred. i’m trying to purge it out of me.

the stuff it burns like a thousand suns inside of the

part that needs to grow most assuredly.

i’m sorry for the way it seems to scorch the parts with meaning

sorry for letting my spirit turn into gasoline.

all i’m hoping is that still remaining after the end of my soul,

after it’s burnt and the ashes fall,

is my faith, of great worth, I’m told…

laying there in the purest form of gold.

i lack bravery, it seems.
to tell you what my silence means.
but with this writing i will always be
courageous and open with my feelings.

truth be told,
a light within me stops its beams
from bursting through
every time i think of you with her.

the image lingers and i wonder...
i'm nothing special.

those moments didn't mean anything.
you've been doing it with everyone else.

i'm still at peace, though.
i'm still not as afraid as i used to be.
i thank God i'm not as afraid as i used to be.
that summer. you tore my nerves in pieces.
i was in fear of not being able to tell my legs and my arms a part.
i was sinking. no one cared.
as much as i was hurting and sick,
it was game to those who were well and fair.

i'm stronger now. you won't do me the same.
i will be able to sleep at night and be comfortable with my
pain.

you can build up your ego all you want,
you can flirt with every woman in the room,
but you will not tear my nerves asunder
like you successfully did that summer.
my strength you will not remove.

Replace me with someone else.

Give away my name.

Put these toils in someone elses hands.

She'll know what will become of me.

Place this body somewhere love has a different meaning;

a separate purpose.

Give away its name.

We'd both have a different meaning and perhaps a simpler relativity.