A.L.I.V.E
A.L.I.V.E
I penned down these words down for the things I believe in.
I wrote these words down for for the things I feel inside.
For the bees inside my head to buzz a little quieter,
it's what my therapist said.
Ignore the whispers of shadows whose cowardice made you feel less of yourself.
I believe the loneliness will never win,
because I feel myself a trophy worthy to pick myself from this dream.
From the darkness around, loss in a lower case font,
the 'I believes' in this poem, All CAPS,
slowly turn to don'ts,
and the laughter and smiles in my happiest thoughts only remind me of my loss.
I believe this poem isn't dark,
that I only let this ink spill out to stain onto my wrists to cover up the marks.
And it still isn't dark,
I only choose to keep out the sun from the places that have never been loved.
And I don't know what's worse,
the colonialists hand as white as snow that covers my mouth or the melanin skinned one on top that agrees with that.
Me a shadow, because the sun shines, but my body stays black.
And I don't mean my melanin skin,
my ying cowers in a corner because it is afraid of me.
And why wouldn't it be,
when my face is not my own,
and my body no longer a temple that I still worship in.
The only light that creeps into this body sips in through cuts in my wrists,
the only thing that ties me to human, to feel,
to know the pain is something that I have faced to many times alone.
I lied,
because my silence holds my hand,
my anxiety braids my hair,
and my mistakes dress me up in a suit of guilt.
And honestly I look good,
if self pity is what I was going for them I'm dashing, exquisite and elegant.
If I believe the sad in each song is me,
maybe I'll be worth looking into.
You've been too busy reading between the lines,
that you didn't bother to read through the ink my heart spills on these words.
And I believe this poem isn't dark,
my anxiety says it is,
but if this canvas isn't white,
then what hope is there left for me.
25/11/19✅
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