Poetry, to me it means so much more then vowels and constants put together to make up fancy words, its my escape, my way forward, the one thing I turn to when I need to get rid of pain and anger, its how I deal.
I was afraid of sharing my poems, of letting others in, showing them what’s within, afraid people will take pity on me and that they’ll judge me but I put that aside cause its my form of expression and I choose to embrace it.
“I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit” – Erykah Badu
Hatred, anger, sadness and loneliness, the emotions that emanates from my being. Bottling it all up seems like the only solution, see that way I won’t feel like I’m being a nuisance.
Loss, disappointment, heartache and broken promises, things I thought I’ve dealt with yet when there’s silence it creeps up like horrific images. Trying to figure out how I’m going to deal with this, becoming suicidal and cutting up my wrist?
Walking around in pretense like I’m in cloud nine, while my life is slowly falling apart and all I need is a guideline. For in the society we live in asking for help is thee biggest crime, so my pride takes over and ruins my entire life time.
Smiling and laughing, the only camouflage I have that hinders questions being thrown at me. For the last thing I want is anybody taking pity on me. So I act strong, act tough, like I’m that superwoman whose never had it rough. These are the survival skills I’ve got to apply because in the end its the only way I’ll get by.