States the loud, infuriating, voice that
I to want to listen to since you have so desperately told me to do so,
an abundance of times.
With my demons that I can't drown
and the beasts that know how to swim
but my heart with more determination than you simply just wanting to be the "big guy"
or the "hot shot" and say, "I made her die. I killed her."
We can simply count the beasts that
I or others might go through everyday.
1. Looking in the reflection and seeing theirselves screaming back at them
"Why did you eat tonight?" and damaging their confidence, if they had any,
bringing all the self loathing and pouring it into the toilet, crying tears of repugnance and
wanting to rip through the countless of layers that they call "Me" and change into what they
call " Somebody else, somebody better, somebody worth it."
2. The ones who hurt people because they've been hurt.
The ones who try to call people out on their actions, but what they don't realize is
the significance of pain that the other has at home.
Their abusive mother coming out at night, looking for a target because her depression is
feeding away at her heart, mind and capabilties
with no way to cope
she just slowly digs her fist of hurt, regret, resentment and pain into her sons ribs,
and feels better to an extent in the morning while her son is crying on the porch saying " not again."
3. The daily crap of classism, racism, sexism, that you see and hear about everyday.
"walks" trying to make a change
people trying to advocate whats right in the world
as oppose to saying what the world is really doing wrong.
Why say it when it is clear as day, though?
I'm categorized as a angry black woman when stating my feelings
but that man who tells my ideas for me is seen as insightful.
I'm categorized as an African American woman, A black woman, A negro woman, A native American woman, A woman of color, A "nigger," My ancestors seen as "slaves,"
why stop at the color of my skin?
Dig into what they say about my sex-ID, A "Ho," A "bitch" A "skank"
but why can't I just be seen as a human?
Why can't we place ourselves in these categories, but more importantly, why do we have to categorize?
Why colonize? Why group? Why Classify?
The only way we're going to fix individual parts of the world is to STOP being so individual
and to STOP parting ourselves from one another, come together and make things better.
4. The ones who constantly pick apart themselves when nothing is wrong with them.
Society is what's wrong. Be this, do this, act like that, wear that, look like that.
Be Skinny. You have to have a high degree from college to get a job, be what others see as "classy"
Wear the new vans, buy the new Iphone, have the new "element" sweater,
LOOK like everybody else: Blend in.
And when you do stand out, you're seen as a "misfit"
I'd say beautifully eccentric, I'd call you an individualist, I'd call you: You.
5. The ones who fight for what they believe but end up standing alone.
After all the "supporters" had told them they would stand by them till the day they die.
They're not dead. They're zoomed in the bigger picture now; seeing nothing but colors of red;
colors of determination striped across their shirt.
These people are strong.
They're following the most delicate and fragile part of themselves; Their heart;
Even when it's been stepped on and ridiculed, judged and fought with
All of their beliefs have been critically thought about with nothing but pure hatred and
ignorance but yet,
they continue to fight their battles.
They don't do it to win, they don't do it for recognition, they do it because it's something that
is theirs. Their beliefs, Their views.
6. The girls and boys, yes boys, who have been stripped of their humanity.
Hands that have been laid on them several amount of times, the sting is still there when they
trace their fingertips over the parts that were touched so forcefully.
When they look in the mirror, it's not what they see- it's an echo of that moment when
everything was taken away from them.
The moment their unstable thoughts ricocheted back and forth between memory after memory
still hearing the breaking silence of despair and hurt
nonetheless, screaming for help:
no one could hear them.
What had happened is done and they live the rest of their lives- crying only on the inside
because they're afraid of what will happen when it's out.
I only listed a few things
but theres a profusion of devils that people have
that stand on their shoulders and whisper in their ears.
A person like me has done and been through too much to even consider it
I'm stronger than you.
I remember telling myself, "whoever is trying to bring you down is already below you"
I've given this world so much to think about, the world is changing because I am, I've dedicated my time and amped my motivation to try and do what's right.
I'm a soul with the practices of an African American woman- walking on the very ground my ancestors did, I have a right to be here, I am supposed to be here, and I was made to be here. I have something to live for.
No. I'm too alive to even think, dream, or wish about suicide.