When I was a little girl, I hated violence.


I'm almost an adult now and violence is my greatest strength, I don't think it's better than kindness but nevertheless it seems powerful, loud, I can't express myself without it.


I have to be aggressive almost always, and it hurts people but nevertheless, it's the only way people listen to me. 


I feel worthless without my voice, like my dad’s old t-shirt that's now used to clean up dirt. 

I feel small when I'm not heard, I could be in class but nevertheless, I'll stand up shatter like glass.


You see, I grew up thinking that being quiet would make things calmer, quiet would glue my family back together just like the broken clay cup on the kitchen floor after my parents would scream simultaneously over each other, so from a very young age I hated violence.


The aggression triggered the self-hatred in me, I made an effort to sit behind the corner so I could be ready to step in because when they fought, it was like the apartment suddenly filled with strong currents from the sea in a deep underwater cave that only seemed to be relieved when my father retrieved.


I never wanted to be labelled as the "crazy and violent" girl, nevertheless, my emotions flood with rage as I try to grip onto reality.

I spoke my mind with words that cut deeper than a blade, louder than a man, I suffocated people with my dark intrusive thoughts.

My personality was bigger than brothers hoodies I used to steal.


One day I began to find comfort in my violence and somewhere along the way, I learned that my voice is like an old childhood blanket that's so ***** and worthless, but to me, It's my only way of feeling heard. 


I learned not to let people in because what's the point if in the end I'll be letting them go through the smoke of a joint. 

I learned not to hold myself back when an immature boy only sees me as a toy.


I learned to love my quiet yet aggressive personality because as a child, myself is all I had. 


Violence isn't always the answer, nevertheless now that I'm grown, I don't hate violence.


In fact it's is my greatest strength.

I long to crawl from my own skin.
An emptiness consumes me from within.

Far and wide, I search for a home; a prison it is to exist within my own bones.
A gnawing begins to fill my brain,
maggots and vermin lead my mind astray.
I long for the day I am severed from myself.  

Suffering, I sell my soul
to gods of worlds old,
just to breathe a life free of the suffering that is me.

You don’t want to die.
No.
You want happiness.

You want to wake up in the morning feeling alive with each breath that comes easily and weightless; You just want stop feeling like this is a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

The possibility of happiness manipulates you into thinking you can have it then, inconveniently at the most in opportune time reminds you that happiness is just not something you can have no matter how deep the yearning you have to submerge yourself in it; happiness is there, all around yet just out of reach so that you can see but never manage to have it.

You’re hopeless, alone in a cold darkness that suffocates you, leaving you breathless and isolated from others by past wounds that wont heal.

At times you’re overwhelmed, like a deer in headlights you can’t move; feeling paralyzed not knowing what to do, say, think, should you sit? Waiting until you “unfreeze”
you’re frozen in an attempt to pullaway from an invisible hand that has a tight grasp of your upper arm. Eventually it releases its hold allowing you to move once more leaving you to now wondering, lost on what to do .

Sometimes you’re trying to find reason to live, more reasons than your kids. If it weren’t for the kids you wouldn’t be here. You have tried so many times. But are left to fight for yourself. You’re all you can depend on in the end. Whenever that will be.

To crave,
Wails of agony, voices soaked in terror?
Call after call, message after message.
Care, love, sympathy?
Succor, surveillance, support?
Tear after tear, hands shaking and grasping?
Pity, solace, warmth?

To receive,
Levigating guilt, being disintegrated.
Evanescensing from reality.
Blood clotting and drying.
Those who are paid to give care,
Who seem as though sympathy;
Hadn't glazed over their eyes in decades.
A room so cold and sterile,
That not even the warmth of my breath
Could stop my bones from shivering under my skin.
Desolating abandonment,
Hums of fluorescent lights,
In chorus with sobs of despondency

It isn't what I wanted.
But it is what I deserved.

If my love could heal,
the faded traumas
which adorn your skin
would expire

If my love could heal,
you wouldn't pleasure yourself
to the idea
of her suicide

If my love could heal,
you'd feel your mother's absent love
through the cracks
in my lips

If my love could heal,
maybe I'd learn to heal myself
before others

And then maybe;
I would've healed myself
before a predator

To your skin,
I write a thousand sonnets;
She recalls the rain.

To your smell,
I sigh a hundred ancient songs;
She sticks to me like toffee.

And oh,
To your eyes ...
To drown in silt stardust,
To smother in her hues.

To your hands,
I bow in thorns and roses;
She's grasped flesh and bone.

To your lips,
I grow ten dozen lilacs;
She carries the taste of your breath.

And oh,
To your voice ...
To asphyxiate in words,
To choke in her cadence.

And just as your veins will be empty of blood seven decades from now,
The tender love is fleeting.

But the rain still falls,
And the bones remain.

Everything is that deep for me
I have oceans inside
swells in my chest
the tides have been beating
I can't keep waves in my hand
but I have handfuls of what I can keep

Why does everything feel like it's going to pull me under?

Wanting to see you happy took on a deeper meaning
I got my wish and this is something I see you achieving
My heart can’t decide whether to elevate or keep sinking
I feel your love but sometimes I’m the one missing.
I’m trapped in a hole of my own making
It’s like I want to come up but I’m still debating
Do I push myself off the ledge or keep praying
I hope my love is strong enough to choose staying
there’s nothing on your end that’s wrong, it’s me
I’ve been working on letting me feel alive and free
Keep regressing to a time where I’m afraid and weak
and hope you don’t hate me if I reach a new peak
Intrusively, I risk losing my precious purpose of being
You’re sending the signs I need but I’m not seeing
How much I mean to you becomes invisible to link
With the love and happiness, I wish for you, to exist.