Lips are Moving

Sometimes it feels like I’m talking.

I swear words are coming out.

But no one seems to hear me.

Maybe I should shout.

 

I’m crying out for help

but everyone looks away.

My feelings don’t matter I guess

So depressed I guess I’ll stay

Control

I like to believe that I am in control.

That I am independent.

I mean I worked my ass off for a degree

by myself.

I saved up for 5 years and bought a car

by myself.

I have a good paying part-time job

by myself.

I’m looking for a big girl career now

by myself.

But yet no matter how what I do

to make myself feel like

an accomplished adult

I will always be trapped.

For I may have a degree,

a car,

a job,

but you will always make sure

that you still control

some small piece of my life

so that I always have to come back

to this horrid place.

You will always keep me dependent

so that I can never escape,

even though this atmosphere is toxic

and is killing me; suffacting me

making my accomplishments

as worthless as myself.

Go Out Walking

Every day I  go out walking

miles and miles of trails that wind

hoping, and praying,

to leave myself behind.

I’m looking for a new me,

one I can face in the mirror

because now all I can see

is someone far inferior.

Sometimes I think it’s working;

that all the struggles are worth it.

I  do everything correctly,

but nothing has changed a bit.

No matter how hard I work,

no matter how hard I strive

I’m greeted by the same person

at the end when I arrive.

Too Many Times

Too many times in the course of history

woman have been told to sit back and be quiet:

the men are talking.

 

Too many times in the course of history

woman have been told their opinions are cute,

but it’s the men’s who count.

 

Too many times in the course of history

woman have been told to stop talking

because the men don’t agree.

 

Too many times in the course of  my history

I have been told my opinions don’t matter,

by men of course,

simply because I see the world through a different lens

and thank God I do

because someone has to look out for someone

other than themselves.

 

What is in My Soul?

When you look into my soul,

and I know you do because

I can feel you there,

what is it you see?

I like to believe that there is

something beyond the darkness

I’ve been feeling for a few years now.

I like to believe I go deeper than that;

I am multidimensional.

Perhaps you see my passion,

surrounded by persistence and loyalty.

Perhaps you see the youth

that my playful heart feeds off.

Perhaps you see soft, gentle colors

that depict all the kindness

I have to offer to others.

Or maybe you see the abundance

of love and compassion that I am

just dying to share with the world.

What is in my soul?

What do you see?

Is there hope for me yet?

Or has the darkness smoothered my light?

Taking Things

I thought you were done taking things from me

when you stole my virginity 7 years ago.

But yet here we are, all these years later

and you’re still taking things from me:

My happiness

My hopes

My dreams

My soulmate

My chance of having someone love me.

I can’t have any of those things

because you ruined me; damaged me.

And now I’m so broken that

I can never have the one thing all always want.

After 7 years I finally realize

it’s never going to get better for me.

Fuck you.