Who am I? Who am I to judge you For your past, And the life Bestowed upon you. Who am I to decide The constructs of right and wrong, The norms By which we live by. Who am I to bear you Ill intent In your safe place Your own home Your mind. I fall, stand, fight, win. Who am I to hate you For the things you cannot control. The dim-glowing ember Being shadowed by fear. Who am I To watch you drown in despair, And cower in silence While you sink into the unknown? I will reach my

Formed from the ashes Dust and clay Modelled into essence As alive as day. In our first breaths Lay the unison of life, The gift of grace, And blessings bestowed by the sun. The same light That nurtured us, Fed our melanin, And dawned onto us, a new age. We bathe in her embers O mother! To whom we praise for this black skin, This eternal treasure. We do not falter In our excellence, Our exuberance, Our beliefs. From time, You have looked down on us, Suppressed our culture,

I am strong, Brave, Proud, and Stand tall with my heart held high My ancestors, They watch over me; In their strides I precede. My home is no foreigner To your gods, Zeus, Aries Poseidon, Hades. The greats as you see fit, The powers you crave, The awe In your eyes As you look to the heavens. By blood, and tears My forefathers, and theirs before them Fought to preserve What I now call home. In her wake, she demands homage And we dedicate our Fros and Locks to her She blesses

Listen, listen, Hear the very words that start the spiral, Revolutionary in its descent, Wholly demanding yet reformative in its poise. You dare ask me what right I have to speak? Aren’t we equal, you and I? Do I not breathe the same air? Do I not draw life from the very same earth? You wish to control me, But I will not be silenced. You wish to tame me, But I will not be afraid. Listen to the cries of my ancestors Whose blood you spilled; Whose tears you water your travesti

This time it’s different This time there’s no saving me I’ve come face to face With the same demons that plague me The very same ones I run from I crave that which can’t belong to me The peace it brings The solitude The love Yet, time and time again I’m reminded that this is not for me All I’m left with is melancholy Pain and hurt Pain and hurt which transpire Beyond my heart’s capacity Beyond what I call home Beyond me I’ve wished to be saved I’ve tried saving myself But thi

There’s days when life just sticks it to you, Right from the moment You take your first breaths of the morning, Down to your eyes close at the end of the day. It’s complicated; Life I mean.. So many questions To be answered in so little time. What exactly are we doing? Why do we live? What is life? What is our purpose? We live each day In fear, Watching the sun set On our dreams, hopes, and aspirations. Why are we alive if we all die? Why are we subjected to this torture Of w

Here we are again Reliving painful moments Picking up what’s left The remaining pieces of me I see now that I can’t run I can’t escape whatever this is This sickness deep down This darkness that haunts me I’m so tired of fighting Words can’t describe The torture I’ve put my heart through The tears don’t fall anymore Just as the pain is desired My heart no longer feels genuinely Just as my soul doesn’t know it’s place In a different life To be happy would be attainable I’m a d

For a moment there, I let it all go With my eyes closed, I Subdued my rage, my anger My despair, my depression Years and years of suppressing Thoughts, emotions, Feelings, conscience, Even some part of my soul It’s been so long since I felt something I’ve repressed it all And now, There’s nothing left It hurts, so bad, but it doesn’t I want it to end, but I don’t I want to fight, but all I can do Is let it consume me whole I thought I’d grown I thought I could win I really th

Deep breaths, Calm, composed Spiralled thoughts Solitude........ Modelled from the very essence Prime and raw Carved from the sands of time Beauty undefined Hour glass, barely trifling Breath slowly stills Fixed gaze upon beauty that is Not a shroud of spite in sight Work of art Nature’s very own Transcendent beauty Pure heart well known First steps in a perfect duality Lightweight foot ahold Minimal pacing Primal stories told Formed from ashes Dust and clay Moulded to beauty