I am confident because I am a woman,
Not a reflection of someone else’s desires,
Not an object to be shaped by their whims,
But a vibrant force, grounded and inspired.
They think they own my beauty,
As if it’s theirs to claim and consume.
But I’m the storm that shakes their ground,
A force of nature, bold and unbound.
Each scar I bear tells of my fight,
A testament to strength and might.
I rise like fire, daring and bold,
Defying limits they’ve tried to mold.
I honor the woman in my own mirror,
Her spirit unbroken, her vision clear.
If my independence stirs their unease,
Let my truth rise like a tempest, swift as the breeze.
I refuse to fit into their narrow confines,
Living authentically, where my spirit shines.
As free as the winds that weave through the trees,
With aspirations that soar beyond their pleas.
When their illusions begin to crumble and fall,
They lash out like shadows, but I stand tall.
Their approval was never my measure of worth;
I’ll reflect on this journey with pride and mirth.
Finding strength in each “no” that I dared to speak,
In every chain I shattered, in every dream I seek.
My path is my own, uniquely defined;
I am here—embracing the fire in my mind.
With courage as my compass and hope as my guide,
I’ll honor my story, with nothing to hide.

So they say:
I am diseased
because I’m different.
I am disgusting,
for I am distinct.

I am a widow on the wall,
a cockroach in the kitchen.
I am stubbed within the sand,
gouged into the grass.
You hold me in your index,
and huff me out your mouth,
for I, the English cigarette;
am a sickness in your lungs,
and the cancer beneath your feet.

I am black,
I am bubonic,
I am a plague.

They seem to fear my spread,
yet, I am pushed, I am prodded,
I am pummeled down to bone,
for I, the English cigarette;
am extinguished by your touch,
a light, and lifeless ****,
an easy target
caught between your malice
and the cruelty of your words.

You compel yourself to rise at the break of dawn,
yearning for a day
wrought with promise,
aspiring to evolve
into a finer version of yourself.
After a few gentle reassurances,
you become acutely aware of an amiable
yet slightly alien sensation—Happiness.
You relish this ephemeral joy,
cognizant of its fleeting nature.
However,
the instant you pass through
those well-trodden portals,
you seamlessly metamorphose into that polished,
ostentatious facade
that society demands.
You squander invaluable energy upon others,
along with your dwindling patience.
At day’s end, you find yourself utterly spent,
clutching the scant remnants of vitality
you valiantly preserved.
As you extinguish the lights,
you descend into a vast abyss of darkness,
relishing fleeting tranquility,
only to swiftly confront the bitter truth
of your exhaustion—
exhausted
from being fractured,
deceived,
belittled,
and loathed;
wearied of existence itself.
Gradually,
you retreat into the recesses of your mind
where you have lingered endlessly,
surveying the dimly lit room
as each object
dissolves into nothing more than shadows.
Then, silence envelops the world,
Poised
for your next act.
The solitary sound that emerges
is not of this earthly realm;
it is a voice—
one that might be deemed
Otherworldly,
insidious,
ghostly,
and extraordinarily compelling,
twisting tender words of comfort
into nefarious fabrications
aimed at your undoing,
and yet you embrace them,
soon feeling the anguish
of fresh wounds
as the warm crimson rivulets trace your skin.
Your body, finally ceasing its tremors from indignation,
becomes inundated with remorse.
You adorn yourself in fabric to conceal your suffering,
and with every sharp sting that the cloth inflicts,
you reproach yourself for your capitulation.
Your eyes brim with tears
that your weakened spirit cannot shed,
as you ensconce yourself within your sheets,
ensnared in the turmoil
of overthought and
relentless regret.
You surrender to slumber,
devoid of dreams or visions,
merely enveloped in whispering darkness—
another fleeting experience you cherish,
knowing you shall awaken anew,
resurrected with courage,
fully aware that this cycle
shall perpetuate with
relentless,
cold efficiency,
ad infinitum.

do you ever feel like you're not enough? like what you do will never measure up. who to be and what to do have never come clearly to you.

i know you.

I know your pain, your sorrow, your lack of faith.

"how do i believe in myself when no one else does?"

you prove them wrong.

show them your strength, your courage, your confidence. prove to yourself that you deserve life, deserve to be on this planet we call earth.

we all have something to offer, you included.

show the world the best you can be and then they'll see that they were wrong about you and the things you can do.

spread your wings and jump, i know you'll fly.