I find it both silly and enlightening,
That you believe my style is the equivalence of my being.

Everything seems so foreign
There is so much **** that I willing put myself through
It's just dawned on me that I have a self-destructive personality
When does it stop?
Does it stop?
Please
Let this pain evaporate

Sigh

Sometimes I wake up out of breath
Questioning if I am living only for death
My bed holds bad dreams and demons
No peace comes when I am sleeping

Questioning if I am living only for death
I hate my life and I have nothing left
No peace comes when I am sleeping
Only thing keeping me sane is books

I hate my life and I have nothing left
I care for others more than I do myself
Only thing keeping me sane is books
My friends wear makeup and cute looks

I care for others more than I do myself
I can hardly stand getting out of bed
My friends wear makeup and cute looks
While I can't stomach my own reflection
Sometimes I wake up out of breath

-A Black Girl Untold

I woke up this morning and I feel happy
I wake up each day and I feel happy

Why?

Because each day my feelings are stronger for you
Because each day I feel chemistry pulling me to you
Because each day I think of your beautiful personality

Your beautiful personality is what makes me feel happy each day

D/

do you remember the person
that you were
five years ago?
ten years ago?
do you think they were better
at living your life?
would they hold your hand now
or push you off the edge
of your endless agony,
that all-consuming sadness
that's eating away at your mind?
would they take a picture
or just walk by?
do you still wish to go back,
catch up with all the lost time
and make things right?
you're the only version of yourself
that's available
right here and right now,
and did you ever consider
that it's for the best?
maybe past belongs in the past,
maybe you're happier without it.
everything looks more appealing
through the lens
of nostalgia,
but if you remember the person
that you were
five, ten years ago,
do you still think they were better
at living your life?
or are you finally ready
to make it yours?

Tame a little vestige of flame,
Afraid, you hide your shame.

The truer it is, the more wrong you are.
Out of place, out of shape,
melodies catering to distaste.

Brittle glass, like wasted hope,
Orchestrating a washed up trope.

Cover it up, ***** it out.
Tiny spark of true self,
Left to linger, by yourself.