By Beleicia Bullock
The fire is real as I walk into the mouth of the dragon,
Its fiery breath scorching my flesh, charring it to ash.
Here the struggle is real,
The pain - seemingly overwhelming.
And my Instagram announces: #TheStruggle.
As I continue on my path, through the forest with no light,
Just trouble lurking around the corner,
I feel the trees, nature in itself closing and enclosing around me.
Here, the struggle is authentic,
And here my Facebook post proclaims: #TheStruggle
I swim through the creek, just a shallow creek,
Yet the water consumes me,
It devours me,
It surmounts me,
It chokes me.
I struggle to breathe,
To take a gulp of sweet, syrupy air
Sticky with the pap of life.
But, here the struggle is oppressive,
And here my Twitter chirps with the melody: #TheStruggle
But now, now I refuse to be buried by the struggle,
The fire, the dark, the water
I refuse to feel hopeless.
To feel blind.
To feel inadequate.
To be deprived.
I renounce the weapons formed against me.
And I rebuke all things that hold me back.
And no longer will me social status be #TheStruggle,