4 o Four
Sitting in my bed
Reading Malcolm X
Listening to Mozart
Daydreaming
Seeing snipets of reconstructed scenes
Figments of my distorted reality and woeful imagination
Asking my self
Who am I
When no one is looking
When no one is around
I mean, I spend most of my time alone when I'm not in my classroom
I have two roommates but I'm always in my own space never reaching out
I sleep but not all the way through the night
When I wake up at 234am, I think about things
My lessons for the next day
Emails I need to send
Grants for Blossoms
I think about everything
Everything, but the question of who I am
Take all that I have accomplished away
Who I know
What I am known for
Where I have been
Steal my story
Then make me look at my hands
My face
My soul
And tell myself
Who am I?
An ageless girl at heart
I rarely look in the mirror and see a woman
A lady, yes
But not a full grown woman
Been paying bills since 18 but even after 11 years of independence
Little of me actually feels adult-like
I am too little
Cultured and well traveled but still don't know enough
A writer but I don't have the literary juice of the greats
Blessed.
No question
But there's a quilted down comfort in drowning in self doubt
Spiritually gifted
But can't use my discernment to see
Who I am?
Who am I
Byproduct of post civil war american slavery without chains
When Harlem met the beast
I was bread
An unmothered child
A fatherless bastard
A sister to siblings who don't even know my address
Unwanted
Rejected
Abused
Neglected
Loved and unloved in the same breaths
By the same people who I would've given my last breath for
Who am I
A creative
But still I don't feel like my sh't is on another level
I ain't got it like that
Confidence
Lost
Self love
Reversed
Who am I
Half Dominican but don't even know the half about being Dominican
Couldn't teach you anymore than you already know from the corner store
Who am I
Black
And
Brown
And
Proud
But still not proud of myself at all times
Desolate and alone
It's white in this room
Pure
But I'm not
Seen too many men in this lifetime
But can't call on one of them for a lifeline
Shame on it all
Please don't wait for me
Tonight I ain't there but I promise you
I'm on my way
Don't know how long it's going to take me to meet myself at the stop sign on the corner of
Who am I
And
I am enough.
Google maps doesn't seem to have it on their radar
I don't know my way around that side of town
Don't wait for me
I promise I'll let the good of my inner voices lead this blind quest
I'll find it and call you and
You'll ask me where I am
And I'll say,
I am here.
I am enough.
I am enough.
Unguided but these words are my trail of directions
Leaving conspicuous tracks in these rhythmless lines
Dearly beloved, take forward steps
Say and know:
I am more than enough
More than
the daughter of crack addict
a broken hearted girl
More than my looks
my degrees
the diagnosis the doctors labeled me
I am more than what I feel when I can't feel
Easy to write that
Hard to live it through
Not going to front for the gram or Facebook and its middle finger to opinions because they not in this bed
It's just me and Malcolm and Mozart and both of them are dead
Legends
If I learned anything from their art it's to embrace my ugly truths
Run with my own demons
And ignore those living out loud in others
Never pity myself
Channel my pain like Poe
Write my way out
Down and up and up and down and I bet people say I'm not reading her crazy ass writing no more while I'm still alive but call this the realist thing they ever read when I'm gone
This is not a suicide note
You can't talk about being gone after a trip to Hopkins without setting off alarms
So like an alarm, I repeat:
This is not a suicide note.
Therapy in the strokes of these iPhone keys
Sessions
You could be eligible to receive a Apple iPhone 7.
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