Tag Archives: real talk



Yes, you’re telling me but not really 

Because we aren’t quite free

To speak

of that which holds us

So I’m telling myself


Eat right

Fight the urge and purge

It’ll get better

but then it doesn’t

So, I’m stressed to the max

and it’s seen in my actions

Depression and rage times a thousand

You should see me behind closed doors

Man, you would be floored

If you witnessed

Even a hint of it

But, it’s kinda taboo

To discuss

A less than perfect version

So what’s left?

Unrest and anxiety

More pressure to please

Less freedom to be

Fear of being seen

With all my imperfections

So I dare not speak

Of the hidden Inner

That’s riddled with tension

and I’ll keep on pretending

until I’ve sought the one that renders

Me as exceedingly perfect

till the hurtful is no longer worth it

till I expose those

Things that he chose to go 

to the cross for 

and when He rose, He showed

How the imperfect becomes perfect

How the depression becomes redemption

How He chose another ending

Without apprehesion

because He saw me as a treasure

Now, how’s that for value?

And it changed up the game

that I am no longer lame

But now I have the freedom to change!



Wasn’t only a dream

More like a scheme

To see

IF I would break

I remember your hands

How they meant to do evil

An upheaval 

Of me

One of your own

As you sat on the throne

Of authority

Keeping me

From experiencing free

I remember learning young that love wasn’t real

Not something you feel

Just words


Free of meaning

Had to fight 

To scratch the surface

Of true purpose

Remember saying we were worthless?

Guess you won for a time

Waved my white flag in surrender



At least a thousand times over

Let their hands

Their words

Their bodies do evil

Personally engaged in my own upheaval 

It’s amazing

How the games changed

After years of absence

Now a passive


Of this abusive


You’re panicked

Because I remember

An ember

A small flame

Inside my members

That renders 

My self worthy

Not a flurry

But a fury of fight


Plus sight


Because I remember

And won’t let it happen tonight 

From the Hood of A Child

Face down


From the waist down


From the neck up


Chalking it up to the way it’s gonna be

Chin up

No luck

Still stuck




Hardly standing




In fear

Afraid to show face

No grace



Only a shadow

Copy of the master


Has to

Self destruct 


Fist up

Defenseless but defensive

Never wins


Seeks revenge


But my father!

My rock

My guide

My master

The one that created this disaster

And I gotta ask

“Did you have to win?”

If so

A long time ago

I would’ve given in

Just hand me the gin

Sinking in

I could do it myself

Don’t care how I felt

Drink it down

Happy now?



Now your slave

Wear the hood that you gave

To hide my face


And see

No more good

Beneath the hood 

Yet there I stood

Still don’t know how I could


I wish we didn’t have to try

Have to lie

Have to hide

But it’s what we’re taught 

Is it not?

From baby to now

Put on the shroud 

On knees we bow

To expectations


Even our conversations 

It’s surface

Truth curtained 

But really hurting 

How are you?

Fine, next line ? 

It’s the same rhythm and rhyme

Can’t take it

Makes my stomach ache

When I witness fake 

I’m Cringing 

While they bingeing 

On making each other feel like they’re winning

High fives 

Over gapped thighs 


Contoured lines

Made up eyes

Glossy images

To keep reality in cages

Truth be told

Be it bold 

Not gonna fold 

Gonna play the hand 

Take a stand 

Be myself and 

Wish that it catches on 

Who I am 

I think sometimes I can get wrapped up in the image I portray and feel defeated when I can’t measure up with the ideas in my head.

So I made a list tonight.

It’s a list of what I know that I am.

It’s a list of things I am without apology.

It’s a list to remind me of what I am so I don’t get upset when I’m not things I think I should be.

It’s a reminder not to try to portray anything but the things about me that are.

When I get upset about things contrary to who I am, I am responsible for creating a false sense of self.

No,  I won’t be the mom baking from scratch 24/7. I won’t be the world traveler. I won’t be the made over and dressed for success by 7 am woman. I won’t be a trail runner. I won’t be an Olympic lifter. 

I will still be snarky sometimes. I will cry at commercials and sad stories. I will be a book worm. I will be a friend.
My list of who I am is below.

Anything else either isn’t for me or is an added bonus.