i am.

callused hands, broken bones,
this is who i am.

crushed heart, forgotten dreams,
this is who i am.

forced to work with sightless eyes,
this is who i am.

with fierce determination I wake each morn,
this is who i am.

with sorrow i lay down,
this is who i am.

my mama named me, Africa,
this is who i am.

Cold.

Tears.
What good were tears? All they did was stain my bathroom floor.

Friends.
What good are ‘friends’? All they did was judge me, then leave me.

Love.
What good was love? All it did was cause me heart ache & pain.

I never get anything right, I am constantly defined by my choices.

Judged by my refusal to conform to the standard.

Ostracized for following the very advice you keep dishing out.

You sit in your groups and look down on me.

Snicker and laugh when I pass by.

My days are filled with longing to explain & clarify, but what good would that do?

You have chosen your side, haven’t you?

Here in the corner of my little world, I sit with my knees drawn to my chest.

As I listen to the rain fall, through the little window on the right.

My hands on the floor, drawing on the cold.

Letting it seep through me.

This is me…

…

as soon as i figure it out, you will be among the first to know

….