A poet once said,
“Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.”
I find myself relating to these words,
Of a human in despair.
I hope you don’t mind me if I share.

Little black girl,
Once in love with herself.
Thought she’d conquer the world,
Regardless of opinion from anyone else.

But life hits.
With its twists and turns.
Introducing a new kind of death,
Pushing my dreams into an urn.
Clueless of what’s to come.
Unaware trauma may strike.
I question my emotional lens,
Cutting my joy with a knife.

In my mind, I’m wasting time.
Down and out of my head,
All these fears embed.
Becoming my own demise.
When I try to hide.
My imagination is escaping me.
Wanting to do and wanting to be.

Overwhelmed by the success man-made.
Along with the 1000 voices, which don’t fade.
I’m lost in this battle,
Feeling like I’ve failed.
Only way out is by faith.
I struggle to make bail.

I wish the power of this pen could touch my voice.
But then again, I’m afraid of its quality of noise.
A young woman unsure, kind of like puberty.
Wanting to release myself into a new liberty.