Not to rain on your parade
But I’m not the fragile crybaby you think I am.
Suicidal thoughts weight a ton
I trek through concrete jungles
With 500 pounds of loneliness on my backpack,
When I open my eyelids
You don’t realize that you are seeing
19 years of lifting my soul
Out of my toes.
You don’t know the strength I have.
The simple muscle that keeps me alive
Is telling me to die.
The irony is not lost on me;
Such irony made me
There is oxygen in my blood stream
I am still here
Despite echoing threats
In all hours of the early morning.
So tell me what more motivation I need
Other than my own spite
Strength is relative:
Just because mine is quiet
Doesn’t mean it won’t shake
The ground you dance upon
I guess your weakness is a lack of observation,
Cause when I look into the mirror
I can clearly see the dynamite in my eyes
My heartbeat is a political statement
When the people of my brain carry
Pitchforks and torches
Rallying for my death
The queen remains on the throne
Each suicidal thought is a new tyrant
Each moment that I remain alive
Is a moment that I remain victorious;
Can’t you see that my
Entire existence is a rebellion?
But you are always
Scratching in my eardrums
When the thought of death
Is dancing upon my lips
You throw Bible verses at me
As your weapon of choice
Against something that wasn’t attacking you
You become so overwhelmed
By rhymes of sorrow
By poetry that wasn’t written for you
You can’t stand when I verbalize
The pressure on my brain
To cave into itself
you want to tell me to be strong
but you are so weak
that you can’t even handle a glimpse
into what is happening in my mind
I have witnessed the same bloodshed day by day
And you can’t even handle the propaganda
I spew every time I say I’m “fine.”
Don’t test my ability to disregard your feelings
Because you can’t handle
That I have suicidal thoughts.
I’m sorry that they scare you
But they no longer scare me.