I used to think of ways I could attempt to end my life without pain
Staring into the well of darkness and imagining the swiftest way to a quick efficient end
Tears rolling down my cheeks, landing on lips to afraid and embarrassed to call a friend
No words to express, no energy to describe the feelings I was so good with holding in.
I thought of using a razor to slice through my veins, watching each red droplet fall until I could see no more
Or taking a bottle of pills and looking into the mirror until I eventually dropped to the floor.
Maybe taking the train downtown and finding a tall building to throw myself off of orrrr
Making a trip to homedepot for the strongest rope to tie around my neck and jump from a high ceiling or even a door
But as you can see I was unsuccessful with the actions needed to follow through with my thoughts
At the time it was yet another reminder of the self-disappointment and fears I was unconsciously taught
At age 35 I’m finally able to dissect each chapter of my life
Page by page, word by word, letter by letter, trying to find where I first encountered this strife
I go through many emotions, some sad, some happy, some inbetween
But I see things different now, my survival, my struggles, my experiences, all adding to this beautiful soul machine
However, I’ve realized suicide is still on the brain
I know, I know, give me a moment to explain
This time it’s not physical, but more mental/spiritual to say the least
This will take hard work, time, dedication, prayer because baby I need the creator to help me kill this beast
Now the weapons are different no store to go to and buy
I hold them within but need some training and strength which I know God will supply
This is years of abuse, neglect, and self-sabotage
It’s not going to be easy this I know but this time my revenge is brewing up the plan and it’s my duty to oblige
It’s funny because Ive always felt I was in the gruesome battle
Me vs me
And nothing had changed but this time I will have the victory
So I was thinking of the first space I was in when I picked up these self hatred manipulations
I realized that most insecurities developed through unhealthy interactions
That plagued my spirit, and gave my internal gps complications
Other peoples self projections they placed on my shoulder and left me alone to mentally decipher and digest the conversations
All these lyrical opinions from ppl that supposed to be my family extensions play on my minds radio stations
But the voice echoing the lines in my head begins to sound like mines
Before I knew it I allowed it to blur the lines
Daddy’s liquor bought out a sermon, wrapped in gospels of my pain,
he preached with slurred scriptures, that tore me down time and time again
The first man I ever loved taught me why its not a safe place
Because love hurts and can keep you tangled in a low state
Mama pressed me about perfection, and I never fit that mold
Cuz perfection is a just a prison with bars dripped in gold
She meant to shield me from the world but locked me in my head
So I processed my emotions in silence more than speaking what my mind said
I used to believe in deep sisterhood, finding and keeping every connection I could
I told secrets believing they would keep them just to be disappointed and bruised.
Fake friends wore smiles but sharpened their blades,
fed off my doubt while my confidence in the definition slowly decayed.
I laid down like a sacrifice for men who only took,
gave them chapters of my body when they never read the book.
I called it loyalty, devotion, even love in disguise—
but it was hunger in their hands, and starvation in my eyes.
See, I was raised in a bubble where the air was too clean,
no streetfight lessons, no sharpened teeth, just a sheltered dream.
So when life cut me open, I bled innocence and trust,
had to stitch my wounds with affirmations scribbled on dust.
Now I’m breaking radios that replay their lies,
I’m muting every voice that taught me compromise.
I dig graves for projections, bury shame in the ground,
resurrecting only truth and I love how it sounds.
Now hear me: I don’t answer anger with the same old pain,
I don’t become their echo or rehearse their cruel refrain.
I find the source, unpick the seam, expose the how and why,
I take their sentences apart and watch their meanings die.
I strip the labels off my skin — “not enough,” “too wide,” “too small,”
I fold them up and feed them to the flame until their voices fall.
I pull the cords that tuned my ear to radios that looped their lies,
I change the channel to my voice and teach my mouth to rise.
I am my muse and Messiah, I’m the weapon and womb,
a crown made of fire, commanding the room.
And the ones who once fed on my sorrow and cries—
are left choking on silence while I prophesy.
This is confidence roaring, this is purpose reborn,
this is venom and honey, the rose and the thorn.
And if you doubt me, step close and you’ll see,
I was birthed for this throne — and the throne births me.
Sincerely Fierce