Pain has terrorized me for an eternity.

Creator,
I have cried immensely
I prostrate myself before you
long ago, I believed I had submitted
though, apparently
submission befalls me this moment.

How much stronger has my torment become
over a period of many moons now
I can suddenly comprehend the wailing proclamations of dying men
their spirits suddenly snatched from the comforts of their varying delights.
The knowledge is contained within physical flesh
yes, contributing to the composition of memories – cognition
still, those memories are compiled inside of cerebral creases – tissue.
The same portions of knowledge are stored
composing the affectionate and turbulent strings
bonds that serve, only, to tether individuals intimately to one another.

I can now feel, with precision, the agony of broken hearts
continuously trampled upon
or existing underneath the feet of fiends of malicious intent.

Oh,

how they play with the heart
kisses and hugs that deceive my soul
ensnaring my innocence inside of their selfish glee.
Shallow beast!
Who hath no capacity to love
instead,
an endless pit of torment where her heart should be.

An addition of stress
I labored under the collective scheme of those who absconded with my children
such an action that triggered my mental and emotional faculties negatively
a most sinister pain.

Was there something,
at my birth,
that you, the creator, should have explained?
I, youth, grand descendant of the emperor Sundiata Keita
my mature life reflective to that of the biblical Job.
Did you, Elohim the creator, devise my life to experience and endure pain?
The strain upon my spirit loomed heavily
supreme, because of the glass smoke I consistently ingested.
Ultimately, there presented the dematerialization of my personalization.

So, according to those facts of life
it ceases me to promote any wonder of how my life has gestated my hatred
which was emboldened by the thieves of my seeds
prompted by a harbinger of toxic unifications – a devil sent to sever my loving patience.

Creator,
lo,
I gripe because my distress is great
the foundation – that night that my initial hero was slain
unbeknownst to I that night would become the prelude to my life’s testimony.
I have, since, stared into the eyes of men, who presumably, re-enacted my fate -
lonely
eternally heartbroken
so they rejected to engage human compassion
hermits
components of communities comprised of other outcasts
a kingdom of vast distances between denizens
bleak.

Creator, lo
I am soon to quiet my grievances.
I do appreciate that you awaken me and guide me into new days
but, I must ask, still,
why am I to persist in enduring a pain so pure?

Down there,
in the depths of my chest,
my heart contemplates fear and abandonment
my tears remain the testament of my citizenship
the captive of an emotional void composed of a morbidly horrendous uncertainty
they are poised to terminate and bury me.

Creator,
if I collapse of a broken heart before the eyes of them all,
will you carry me?
Yet,
also,
and still,
if I expire alone
my breath ceasing, in the absence of all,
in my solitude,
will you cover me?

I cannot do this anymore—
this labor of unraveling myself
only to be misnamed, misunderstood.
I was linked to him, yes—
a tether fraying in the dark,
his absence a wound,
his indifference a quiet violence.
What was I, if not the ghost
he left behind to haunt the living?

The side effects are sharp-edged,
a prescription for forgetting
that forgets nothing.
This is not healing.
This is not cure.
Take me back to the before-time,
to when you cared enough
to name my anguish aloud,
to call it what it was.
Now, I am the sum of your silence,
a woman folded into herself,
trapped in the space
between betrayal and breath.

But still, I stand—
because someone must.
I forgive myself
for believing in your promises,
for letting you map my body
as a battlefield,
for holding your hands
even as they burned.

Darling, don’t go—
but don’t stay.
Disappear so completely
that your memory loses its teeth.
Leave me to the emptiness,
to the choices stolen by your indifference.

My guardian angel comes not with wings
but with hands—
earth-stained and firm,
building me back, bone by bone.
They know the language of endurance,
how to feed hope to the starving,
how to offer a second chance
without demand.

Here is the truth:
I am no longer yours to define.
Here is the reckoning:
I reclaim my name,
write it on the earth with every step,
become a body of love
that bends but does not break.

You took me in your hands
so soft
so sweet
yet your eyes of greed
were warnings I couldn't see
and so when you said three words to me
I had no choice but to believe
so I let you peel back my skin
gentle at first
then hungry
for what you saw within
was so soft
so sweet
that your greed turned from a want
to a need
and as you indulged on my being
I pleaded for an end
you did not listen
and you lied yet again
and yet again I believed
until all that was left of me
was guts and blood
and as I watched you pick me from your teeth
all I could do was hope
that your stomach burned with my bittersweet memory

Bouquet of regret,
Petals wilt with each footstep,
Vows fade in the breeze.