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.
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 3:01 PM UTC
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.
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