im determined to be free no matter the outcome. free as a white baby in a crowded mall. running away from mommy without a care at all. growing up i wanted to be a writer a good one at that but most of the time i gave up from being that because i realized that authors are poor because people read their works years later. but i decided to give myself the flowers i was dying to recieve. abandonment issues reign supreme. i wish it wasnt that way for me. i have so much creativity way down inside of me. the thoughts i possess i typically keep to myself.

as a young mother my eyes have seen so much. as a daughter i cried because abandonment made me aloof. being mentally abused is something hard to come back from. being maniuplated takes time to refocus. yet i realized all that i am is who i paint. a canvas aint a canvas unless its stained. letting go of the need to control. releasing the words that i kept inside that are now no longer told. the little girl who died on tulsmere road. now the woman in the 2 bedroom home crying at the computer screen about the wounds that she carried so deep and the fact that no nigga tried to marry me and im way past twenty three my scars i wear are just for me. but in the light theres tunnel in the rooms there.

i realized the duality in making things beautiful and ugly at the same time. like the smiles from my daughter and the moles near my eyes that my grandmother gave me. how every tuesday i make a taco. how my lover told me i felt like home. how holding hands makes me feel like a little girl. how i still sometmes eat peanut butter and jelly. how i buy flowers for my self and have selfies of each boquet in my phone. how blessed i am to still smile with a missing tooth in my mouth.

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