It’s in her last breath the relieved sense of letting go Her life unfulfilled yet blessed by the never ending show
A raw existence cruelty by another’s hand She gave all she ever had but never took a stand
Her smile so infectious laughter quite contagious She gave fake niceties that kept her spirit righteous
Evolving over time ever present she couldn’t be His malicious behavior strangled her so tightly
How could she know her baby girl’s watchful eye Picking up and mimicking as she walked on by
Get ahold of yourself as she looks in the mirror Life is meant to be lived fully not just in a glimmer
Put down the bat the one tightly in your grip Touch the brakes exit this ride kiss your pretty lip
You are not her all broken and torn apart You’ve unlocked the secrets to transform your wounded heart
She wouldn’t want any of this wretchedness on your path that you are bound Can’t you hear her words gently telling you to pick yourself up off the ground
I’m sorry little one who still cries deep inside I’ve loved you since day one now let mercy take you for a ride
With this grace of comfort you deserve more than I could give Now it’s time to shine rise up and really start to live
She thanked her profusely for never following through with her suicidal thoughts. She couldn’t bring herself to ask if there were actual attempts. She just let her brain assume so, but prayed there weren’t and won’t be anymore. Fear…
These two are so freakishly alike it’s a beautiful harmonious connection. They’ve shared those thoughts as if these were good bonding moments. Really what it says is, “I know better than anyone, and understand your heavy heart, the devastating pain and deepest hurts you’re feeling”. Her mama couldn’t possibly know how she felt exactly, but the agony resonated. The feelings of complete despair and just a desire for the pain to stop. Yeah, that she gets. Confusion…
Mama sits with her, she’s learning to listen, really hear her child’s anguish, obstacles, fears and all the past that floods her head and it all pours out. Sometimes her words are accompanied with anger and outbursts still, almost always with tears and probably for a long while still with confusion of what to do next. “Take it slow, but definitely at your pace”, she encourages her. Processing…
Let her just vomit her words so the poison is extracted. “It’s ok”, she tells her, “I can hold it for you sweetie, I can take it”. Mama knows her frustration isn’t about her necessarily. She can be her sounding board, but not her punching bag or doormat. She’s learned that part of detachment pretty well. It’s not without difficulty when it’s your own child. Unconditional…
Ever since she was 12 her favorite expression was, “I got this mom”. And you know, she always has. Mama smiles intently at her, “I know baby, but it’s ok not to have it all figured out right here right now. Give time time and let things come to you naturally when you can. Forcing solutions can be frustrating as hell, as can sitting still, I know”. Wisdom…
Their talks are more frequent now and her mama is grateful for the relief she sees in her child’s face more often, now and then, here and there. This is only the beginning of all the transitions ahead, yet the only thing that ever matters to her mama is her children’s happiness, contentment and feeling loved, all of them. Closeness…
She gave birth to her and her brothers, she has them all on borrowed time and she knows this too well. Time is fleeting and life is precious. How quickly it can disappear, how fragile it actually is. Guilt consumes her some days. The “if only’s” play out in her head and she cries. Sadness overwhelms her at times and she makes time to call her child just to say I love you. She can’t seem to hug her tight enough when she sees her. Never again will she ever feel her mama’s absence, nor will her brothers. Available…
The best path to travel 👆🏼
She thinks they still need her as they always have, but really it’s mama who’s needing them more. Present…
Sex describes the biological sex a person was assigned at birth. It’s based on biological characteristics of maleness or femaleness as indicated by chromosomes, gonads, hormones and genitals.
Gender identity is a component of gender that describes a person’s psychological sense of their gender.
Seems fairly straightforward. So why the confusion? I’m going with, fears, doubts, unwillingness to be educated and the only real “choice” surrounding this hot topic is being open minded. Instead they face the closed mindedness and ignorance, uneducated, uninformed, prejudice, homophobic, gender phobic, stubbornness and whole lot of uncomfortableness for truth in their daily lives. They fight battles they shouldn’t have to, struggles, obstinacy and cruelty as if they aren’t human with all the same basic rights of equality, peace, love and respect every person deserves.
It’s common for people to confuse sex, gender, and gender identity. But they’re actually all different things.
Sex is a label — male or female — that you’re assigned by a doctor at birth based on the genitals you’re born with and the chromosomes you have. It goes on your birth certificate.
Gender is much more complex: It’s a social and legal status, and set of expectations from society, about behaviors, characteristics, and thoughts. Each culture has standards about the way that people should behave based on their gender. This is also generally male or female. But instead of being about body parts, it’s more about how you’re expected to act, because of your sex.
This topic has been created to be an issue for many generations now when the fact is, it simply needs to be understood as truth for humans. Changing minds could be the goal, but really it is acceptance and the ability to evolve.
Rarely do people like to be told they’re wrong, but if you think gender identity is a choice, you’d be incorrect.
Live and let live. Why do I even have to say that?
My assignment she gave me, a grief letter with instructions what to do Write it out on paper like somehow that will help me get over you
She hears my heart and knows I’ve been drifting awhile Angrily I told her, please help me to stop obsessing so I can once again find my smile
The opener would say, no one ever fought for me, but I never stopped swinging, fighting for that love A broken little girl who just desired to be wanted and cherished simply for who I was
I know my daddy loves me, the 20 times I saw him he told me this as so You reminded me of the same, in fact the words went like this, “I said that I love you, once was enough for you to know”
All these years I’ve been working on my insides, mending what needs fixing, soothing what needs comfort, fighting for what ought to be freely given I can see it in the distance, how life is supposed to go and I am choosing the path that shows me what it’s like to be living
Coulda shoulda woulda such a tormented little game I’ll start to leave those phrases out, the ones which lay forth all the blame
Grief is like a party for us who show up to play the part But really for me, all it does is remind me of my hurting, fractured heart
The conclusion might read something along these blurred lines and such We are all a little flawed, imperfect little humans, but for me, I don’t ask for much
I can articulate my pain, sadness and struggles better than most But for you all, no no, pour another round, raise your glass high to give yourself a toast
Thank God for my journey and path where it has led I lay myself down at night, taking it all in as I curl up in my bed
I pray for the lost, the weary and weak For those who still suffer looking at life as it were bleak
Each and every one who has taken something from me I am being restored by grace and honor and even with a little more dignity
She sits alone in her web of hope that once was her destruction yet his to spin. They never understood how she could stay, but stay she did far past the expiration day.
The song played faint in the background. Dance with me please just one time before we go. He looked through her like a ghost reaching behind as she sunk so low.
In the light of day he still posed as her lover but the reality was he was just another thief in the night roaming the streets undercover.
Her thoughts were more clear when he crossed over into her mind. Who was he now and where had he gone? The man she waited and prayed for hoping he would come to find.
It took many years of trials and even an unsavory reason. She watched and she listened, observed and blew wishes when she finally understood, it was only for one long season.
Kintsugi is the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you can create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.
We break up just to make up, but the truth is I never knew I could love so deeply and be broken so completely.
At 14 he began to steal my innocence, but I didn’t understand. I learned to be invisible not to take his brand.
Manipulation was the name of the game, but it was never myself that was to blame.
Insidiously he took from me every bit of trust, but it wasn’t my fault it was his lust.
My insides eroded as I seethed with anger and rage, but still I was trapped within my cage.
I chased love like a marathon runner who lost, but I kept up the pace no matter the cost.
It was at my own expense and deprivation that drove me straight to you, but I was convinced from the start I could see right through.
Dance with me was my wish, pull me close, never let me go to grieve, but you wouldn’t give instead you chose to leave.
Our agreement established by the one called master became null and void with the final slap, but had it not, forever I would’ve been snared in your most dangerous trap.
See your marks, how they still remain, the ones you said I deserve and had to earn, but once I thought, when will a good girl such as me ever learn?
You chose this with all your reality and truth revealed, but how would you expect me to keep it all concealed?
Manipulation, coercion, control and trickery used for destruction to tear me down, but you yourself put on my special, sparkling queen’s crown.
Every night my body poured into yours, but I was merely just one of your whores.
She must be fucked in the head, but it doesn’t matter since now she is long but dead
The Whole Cookie 