They say stay inside of the lines, color inside the lines. What if that's a secret code to keep colored people inside of the "lines" of the system? Systemic racism is coloring. ................................................................. And I have colored inside the lines my whole life. I was taught to in schools, on television shows,… Continue reading Color Outside the Lines
In a world full of crayons, I want to be a marker. Bright, bold, voluptuous, and simply fading away when my time comes. I don't want to be like a crayon-dragged around. my body and identity dismembering around me until nothing remains of me.
What is narrow? The cracks between the concrete squares of the sidewalk are narrow. As much as people are looking down on their phone, we never seem to notice those cracks... They say if you step on a crack, you break your mother's back. However, if you step on a crack, you may just… Continue reading Cracks
I crawl out of my cocoon, slamming the door behind me, promising to never return. I return sometimes. But now, never. The cocoon stands still, like it's frozen in time. Not moving forward or backward, but stuck where I left it. It is alone, abandoned, and screaming in agonizing pain. The four purple walls are… Continue reading Death of a Caterpillar
I am not your trophy... I am not here to be shown off, glorified, or acknowledged when your friends and co-workers come around only to be thrown in a box in your dark basement any other day. See, you probably don't see the difference between me and the golden inanimate object because you're not in… Continue reading Golden Girl
Driving pass the graveyard. Squinting through the window, gazing into the cemetery. Dying to see if I can see any free spirits dancing around their graves. But all I seem to see is my own reflection.
As soon as I find my way out of the womb, strangers in tidy white masks and bloody black cloaks pluck me from my sorrowful mother's safe, shaky hands. They stuff me into a small white tub I don't fit in, and wheel me into a dark room. It's so dark you can… Continue reading Black and Blue
I didn't start expressing myself through poetry until Freshman year of High school. Even though I've been writing since I was eight, I didn't begin poetry writing until I was fourteen. This is the first poem I have ever written. I'm sharing it in honor of Throwback Thursday. Looking back at it, I think it… Continue reading Happy Ending (My First Poem)
Rejection. Controlling me. Possessing me. Dictating me. Powerful like Hitler or Stalin yet owns no lips to speak, no eyes to see, no heart to feel, no brain to think, no limbs to move, no ears to hear. A horrid feeling. A speechless, lifeless, invisible force obstructing me from complete happiness. Controlling my thoughts, controlling… Continue reading Dictatorship
This poem is pretty self-explanatory. About an event that occurred in my life. A special event that happens once in a lifetime. Hope you enjoy.
