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I promise you one thing. Even after I am long gone and buried, these words I have spoken, will ring out of my grave. They shall remain for eternity.
A response is not always needed when someone from the past reaches out.
I refuse to let you get the best of me
I shall use this black pen as my weapon
To write my story
To share with others
Of how I overcame everything you did to me
However, you did not take this one crucial thing
My voice
I will use it to fight for others
If they remain silent
I surely will not
I wear this crown
As I ride into Albania
All rise as I enter the first town
I am Queen of the Kingdom called Hypomania
Peasants shall bow down
From the main street to the fields covered in Zinnia
For I have come to be renown
Fear me, Queen Vaniah
Let’s set the record straight. Don’t flatter yourself. I’m doing much better without you.
Last night I could not sleep
Dreams of hatred were on the streets
Violence
A divide
Racist speech
This is not a dream
A living nightmare
What will it take
To keep all those we love safe
Family
Friends
Coworkers
Neighbors
It is not an overreaction to assume such acts could take place
For it was not long ago
That these same mistakes were made
I beg of you
I plead of you
To recall
What happened when our ancestors remained silent
These same thoughts became words and then became actions
If we choose to repeat the past
Have we as humans really learned anything at all?
I rise with these scars like a phoenix from her ashes
Battles fought and won
Recovery made
Demons long gone
Light at the end of the tunnel
Has just begun
As Thomas Fuller once said, “The darkest hour is right before the dawn”
I beg you not to leave me alone with my thoughts
My mind and my demons from the past have become the best of friends
They taunt me and laugh
They take refuge in my body
Tormenting my soul
Please doctor, tell me how to rid this darkness inside of me
Recovery is to begin again.
Leave your religion at the door of humanity.
Empathy Poetry 