I fight for my sisters
The ones whose own voice was ripped away

I fight for my daughters
The little girls who risk their lives for knowledge

I fight for my mothers
The women who gave up everything

I fight for my grandmothers
The ones who fought for me

It doesn’t matter if smiles or tears paint your face
So long as the numbers say what They want them to say
The transcript, the scores, the resume
Only numbers can tell what a person is worth
Only numbers can tell what a person has paid
A document will never list the price of pain
Will never notice when time has taken its toll
Will never notice the humanity of feeling
The humanity of breaking down
The humanity of mistakes
Repeated mistakes
Repeated excuses
Repeated words
All meaningless
Until you are crushed
With the weight
Of Their heavy stares
Disapproving
Disappointed
In the meaninglessness
In the worthlessness
Of that numberlessness.

There is a place between life and death
A place where you can bathe in nebulas and saturate your skin in the dust of the stars.
Where colors consume you.
And angels play medicinal harps.
Rainbow flares and flashs kiss your  eyes.
Sound is felt within every part of your consciousness.
So open your eyes as wide as you can so you can see the universe as it was ment to be.