Perhaps I am
just a window
for everyone to see through,
to lift me up for their own vanity
only to put me down when
the world grows dark.

I
don't care
anymore.
I feel myself hollowing out
as the world grows bleaker
by the day.
These people
are termites and I
just don't care
anymore.

I would rather
face the sun than
face the shadows and demons
buried deep inside.

I flew above the horizon
Soar high with the eagles
Flew up high to cross the great sea
With my magnificent wings

I joined the clouds on the skies
I flapped and flapped tirelessly
To reach the paradise
On which I can almost see.

The eagles gracefully flew over the mighty mountain
They reached the other side
They have entered their destination
A beautiful paradise.

It is my turn to ascend like them
I charged, pushed myself higher
But I lost my grace, I hit a tree
I fell down to the dirt

I tried to rise from the ground but I can't
Tried all my might but my wings are broken
I can no longer fly
I can no longer land on paradise.

Colored men don’t talk,
Like in the history books.
Their job is to work *****,
Expect (less) what they deserve.
Their potential doesn't matter.

Young men don’t talk,
Doesn’t sound right for their age.
Their job is to stay back, observe,
Let someone (egotistic) mature talk.
Their competence doesn't matter.

Emotional men don’t talk,
People hate tears.
Their job is to **** it up,
Have a (stone-cold) strong heart.
Their credibility doesn't matter.

Unless they accept the truth,
That the world we live in is,
(Racist, narcissistic, bland.)
Perfect in every way.
Their words don’t matter.

Dear diary;
I am my one
and only enemy.
Somehow,
I am content
and depressed
about it all
at once.

A house that’s just a little bit too clean
beds that are always made
several empty bottles of beer and wine
walls that appear to trap anyone who comes near.

A mother sitting upright, wide awake at 4 in the morning
an anxious dog who paces in the kitchen all night
a weary father who feels older than he should
     and just wants to rest.
Several phones nearby just in case.

The youngest upstairs hiding in her room
        unable to understand.
The eldest moved away
    focusing her thoughts on anything else.
Empty pill bottles strewn around the house
     like christmas lights.
Air so thick breathing almost becomes impossible.

The middle child gone
    maybe in jail
    or the hospital
    or perfectly fine.

Kisses the needles left seen visibly on her arms.
Something eating away at her mind and her soul.

Empty promises of a better future
    swirl in circles with the ******
        in her black and blue veins.

Sometimes,
we all feel a little lost-
lost in a void-
a prisoner of silence.
So come lay with me
here in the darkness,
in silence.
Perhaps we can bring
a little light to
each other's world.

I would rather not.
You have shown your true colours-
The damage is done.

2:28 AM
3/5/20

My heart is
a haunted house
made up of many rooms.
Some are filled with books
and antiques from another time
while others are filled
with shadows and demons.
I locked those doors long ago
and threw away the key.