poetry allows me to purge and process. its how I breathe.
A swollen plumIs what I describe myself asBeaten so easilyFlesh cut open even with a delicate touchA swollen plum is my heartTender yet so weakI feel exposed,My vulnerabilities on show for the whole world to see I find myself unarmoredI do not have any fight left in me to continueI do not carry the strength […]
I sometimes believe I was born SadThe devil must’ve caught his horns by accident into my hairAnd latched on tightly at the rootsMust’ve wrapped his hands around each strand,Must’ve molested my eyes, made them dark brownMade it so my lips grew big, with a violent tongueMade it so my heart grew black, withered But this […]