I'M ALIVE BITCH
I feel trapped in my skin because I am not supposed to be who I am.
I am loud and talkative and thoughtful and opinionated and alive
I am not quiet and submissive and subservient and owned and dead
I do not feel the hindrance in my daily life, I feel it on my daily being in my daily breaths
That seemed to be sucked out of my living corpse in a way that leaves me hollow
How can I be myself when the definition of my color, my culture, my sex, my everything is not who I am
How can live with these chains that threaten to break my wrists like
Candlesticks
Can I just live? Can I just not have to suffer through constant pressure to be
Myself?
Because yes I am colored and yes I am a woman and yes I am loud and yes I am human I am not your subservient being
I am a human who loves passionately and screams into open silence
I am a match in an eerily dark room, the black smudge of paint
On white canvas
I am alive and I am bright and I am me.