My Voice, My Pen, My Weapon

My body is a temple.

You’re not invited in.

You’ve left me empty and broken, all from within.


My body is my home.

My safe zone.

Where my deepest thoughts and dreams are contained in.


This small vicinity.

Is me.


So when you broke in.


When you cracked my painted windows, and kicked down the front door.


When you broke into my home, it felt like a robbery.



the intruder,

Took something away from me.


My innocence,

My relevance.


You wanted me as a shadow.


To be in the dark,

And bury my sorrows.


To let go.


But I did not spend time

Setting the foundation,

Writing rhymes,

Tending the garden,

Building this home,


To leave it behind.


You will not walk in, uninvited.


You've done enough damage


Don't you know the saying

If you break, you buy


Now you have to pay the price.


I have found my voice.

And as long as you're still there.

I will be here.

Front and center,

Voice filled with smolder.

My pen,

My weapon.




This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741