I am a sculptor.
An artist.
My masterpiece? Myself.

Every curve, layer of paint,
Every shadow or exposed face,

All cultivated. Planned.
Incorporating all I know
And that which I do not know

Yet.

But you have only a picture.
A photo.
An image from just one angle.

And all that you recognise is
A flat
Two dimensional
Processed scrap of film.

I've got my head in the clouds
How is that a bad thing?
My thoughts are so far from the ground
And maybe they'll touch my dreams

I could stare at the sky
Put neon graffiti on the lazy moon
I could put a symphony with a sunrise
And I still don't think that'd be as beautiful as waaah I'm rambling over a truth

Maybe my hair could be nested in by eagles
Or my tears could fill up clouds for rain
Or all of this could come crashing down because I'm over eager
And I'll end up tasting the sandpapery wine of pain


So maybe having my head in the clouds,
Isn't exactly a prefect thing
But if it's where I belong
Then I'll next a new set of wings

I thought I could handle life
But before very long
My entire world flipped around
And I'm losing "right" and "wrong"

i see
eyelashes
that you
can't.

they lurk
in the corners
of my sleep
deprived eyes.

fuzzy blurs
that struggle to
pull my swollen
eyelids down.

they frame
the entire
periphery of
my world.

sometimes i pull
them out because
they won't stop
dragging me down.

i don't know
if your
eyelashes
look like mine.

but i have always
imagined
that we're
all the same.

I AM A WOMAN PROUD AND STRONG
MY HAIR IS BLACK AND LONG
WHY DO SOME PEOPLE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH MY SKIN
LIKE IT IS A BAD CURSE OR A HORRENDOUS SIN

IT IS AN INSULT TO ME
WHILE I AM LABELED TO BE
THE ONLY THING BLACK IS MY HAIR AMONG OTHERS
SO WHAT IS THE DEAL MY DARK BROWN SKINNED BROTHERS

WHY DO YOU YELL PROUDLY
GET CRUNK AND SCREAM LOUDLY
STOP RISING IN ANGER, BUT END UP PUTTING YOURSELF IN DANGER
WHILE OTHER ETHNICITIES SOMETIMES TREAT US LIKE STRANGERS

SOME RACES DO NOT WANT TO ACKNOWLEDGE
SOME DARK BROWN PEOPLE WORK HARD AND GO TO COLLEGE
I DO NOT CONSIDER MYSELF BLACK AND THAT IS MY FACT
BUT WE ARE CALLED THAT BECAUSE OF HOW WE ACT

I watched you live,
I watched you die.
I watched you laugh,
And I watched you cry.
Every winning moment,
Or whenever you fell.
I watched you silently,
I watched you dwell.

Learning to walk,
Again and again.
A new experience,
With every new step .
There were times,
When you lost yourself.
I watched you regain
That belief underneath.

I watched you rise,
To the extreme horizons.
I watched you stumble,
On calmest of roads.
You'll fly some day,
To the skies unknown.
I just wish I'm a thing,
You'd like to own.

They yearned for a life of ease and peace.
But the foundation crumbled under the weight of their dreams.

Their hearts believed what their minds enjoyed, so their beautiful addiction filled their void.

Yet Only the child eats and sleeps, without gratitude towards the one who feeds.

Unknowingly following their path foretold, while their incessant fears restricted their growth.

Living in each movement, as though it's the last, with their tainted moral compass and skewed looking glass.

Run.
Faster!
They're catching up,
They're almost here.

Crashing through the woods--
You can hear their spies
Buzzing through the trees,
Right beside you,
Keeping up easily with your dragging.
You feel too tired to keep up with
The fast pace.

Pick up your feet.
They're on your tail!
Get up.
Run!

The spies--
Some darken the sky,
Now a hazy gray,
Their black wings overtake the slower pace.
You can hear their gleeful laughs and cries.

Don't give in.
FIGHT!
Run.

You feel your feet uselessly pulling,
They refuse to go on.
They need to!
You let yourself fail,
You can feel yourself fall from exhaustion.
The exertion was not enough.
Crash--
Fall--
Down.
There's no one here--
No one but the enemy.

No one will save you.
You didn't run fast enough.

I hope you never see me the way I see myself;
And yet I need you to.