Archives for July 2015

Here I sit vigorously trying to escape from behind these crimson bars of doubt and shame

With yet another thought and looking for someone else to blame

Tears fall from my weeping eyes dropping to the dirty musky floor like acid rain

Hello? Can you hear me why don’t you answer and how can you not see my pain

The echoes of my call flow out me like sharpened daggers opening up the wounds I closed off and left untreated

The vibration of my trembles moves in synch with my beating heart dropping me to my knees suddenly im  feeling defeated

The silence suddenly has become louder, the echoes of its present throbbing in my head

Who is that? That familiar gentle voice inside of me? All this Confusion of what is being said

My hands grasping tightly to the bars that have imprisoned me, the essence of all I am trapped and deeply hidden alone in the darkness of the night

Through bleeding eyes of wounded tears I try see through the blur and distortions but nothing, not even the sign of hope or possible freedom is in sight

Nobody is hearing my cry nobody seems to care but wait hold on doesn’t seem like anyone is there, is this a delusion just my own creation of a prison created by unfounded fear

I know I removed the shackles from the chains that bound me they weighed  me and measured me I know they gone because I see them near

But yet the staggering pain has dug itself deep into the very wounds that have reappeared and opening up deeper and more prevalent forcing me to accept whats real

To break free means to pull apart the parts of me I tried to hide, the parts that became versions of stories that changed to fit in to something good to feel

To see the light I have to become the light, Embrace the pain and break the chains that I and I alone created as a shield of my own protection

To break free is to accept, to forgive and let go of all that was and all I believed it to be and to do so in a humble confession

Thought is our own worst enemy, it creates the actions that become the parts of us we no longer recognise, it reshapes us into beings of denial and shame

We walk around with wounds we think are deeply hidden yet when we come out we see just how much we had them exposed we gave them a name

That name became doubt, lack of self worth, courage and even stripped us of the freedom we meant to feel to fully complete our journey of self discovery in order to be fully freed

I am enough, the wounds do not shape me, the choices do not define me, I will rise to the beacon of my brightest light, I will be free I will succeed yes this is MY CREED

She is the definition of a solo performer singing out loud cries of silence, sometimes she wonders if her shadow would still follow her if it had a choice. Her life story is as tangible as sunlight, she taught herself how to smile through her fear.

She is the torn pages of her own history book and what her native tongue forgot to speak years ago, a head on collision caused by her parents driving to fast on a dirt road just to feel whole.

Drenched in all the words she couldn’t call herself,

Covered in her own mistakes as she drips self esteem from her fingertips,

She believes that she is undeserving to breath as her future is adducted by her past.

 

She is being raised by street light instead of her father, the only language he spoke were liquor stores on a Sunday afternoon, maybe that’s why she allows stranger to come inside her by vaguely permitting them to spread her leg apart like the torn pages that she is, they have become too thirsty to pour water into her empty glass,

watching her became as transparent as broken windows after a fire,

they couldn’t love her but appreciated how she gifted them by allowing them in between her thighs.

 

People spray painted her lifestyle onto mural walls, subjected to everyone’s stares but never to be taken ownership for.

Looked over because to some graffiti is not an art by vandalism, the same way her edges are subdue to trans passers destroying the property of her body as she gives in to these invasion,

And when rain falls it hits her harder than Gunshots during a war,

Missiles targeted to set her Islands of safety on fire,

Most days she grows tired of living in shambles.

Depression came when she willingly gives up her bare skin,

Hoping she can be bared with.

To her it is love that only last moments,

And having single moments of love was almost good enough.

Selling her dreams to anyone willing to purchase them as the consequences of forgotten comdoms become evident inside her.

She takes the liberty by removing a mistake and she now carries a graveyard in her womb,

Refusing to allow her seed to be the same accident her parents tried to turn into a purpose.

 

Sometimes she felt that she grew up in a crippled land,

The only memory she has is her runaway dad,

Nothing changed besides the date on the calendars,

Maybe it too much to ask her tears not to fall over her.

 

Syringes made her feel whole,

Feeding the hunger to be loved in her soul.

Sniffed the white powder til her white bones turn into powder and she numbs herself like this,

Accustomed to circumstance, detesting the occupant that she is.

 

She has insecurities she traps under her eyes

While she gives away her pieces of her lopsided smile.

A confidence below zero maybe that’s why she is cold when you touch her. I’m able to smell all the suicide letters she burnt on her skin and I can see all the colours in her occasional hallucinations.

 

She falls asleep to the lalaby sung by needles and dirty ashtrays.

In her dreams

She runs away from the sun as she chases the wind hoping it would lead her to all her dreams been held hostage by oblivion but soon she is captured by tiresome as she falls away into relinquishments.

Maybe some day the world will spare her and she will be enough.

 

Her life bleeds a painful type of unchanged disappointments, using the same band aid to heal the wounds beneath her flesh into a new change, but this time something magical happened…

 

Change occurred when she falls asleep cloaked in defeat and until today she has yet to awaken.

 

Flow Masengesho.