I’m thirstin’.
Thirstin’ for acceptance because my throat is soar from hatred.
That lives pass my lips, passing my tongue, down my throat, into my heart, in between my lungs.
I can’t breathe.
My heart’s pumping like never before, back and forth.
I need some water.
I feel like I just ran a mile, but I haven’t even moved a step.
My mind is racing.
Leaving my body thirsty. 
I need that acceptance.
Where are you?
I need you.
I’m so thirsty. 
I’m thirstin’. 
Only because I have yet to do this.
Wrap my own arms tightly around my teeny brown skin body and accept me.
Nah, I can’t do that.
That would mean work for my mind, body and soul.
I rather be lazy and let hatred continue to eat up my heart until I’m destroyed and no longer a whole.
I rather be empty.
At least that’s what I tell myself when lies travel into my mind.
That I ain’t enough
Changing my perception of myself.
Changing me.
Who am I?
How do I see me? 
I don’t know.
I’m just a little girl.
That’s what you think right?
I’m too young.
So I don’t know nothing..?
But what I know is that I don’t like myself. 
Just like everyone else I have imperfections that isn’t quite accepted in this I-need-to-be-perfect-world.
I guess that’s why I try to fit in.
Try to be accepted cause there’s something about myself I just don’t like.
I go to Paul V. Fly elementary school. 
I think I’m the most quietest one in my classes.
I sit down.
Listen to my teachers.
Do my work.
Go to lunch.
Recess.
Get my bookbag.
Get on the school bus.
Then leave school.
Go home.
And then do the same thing tomorrow.
But no one would ever know how full my heart is with embarrassment when those doors open.
And I enter into those classrooms.
I do this thing with my lips.
Tongue gets caught up.
The sound.
You can hear me mumble cause it isn’t clear.
I trip over my vocabulary.
Not easily flowing back and forth.
Opposite of the ocean.
Not a beautiful melody.
I stutter.
I bet your wondering it ain’t even that serious. 
Everybody stutters once in they lifetime. 
But for me it’s the worse once in my lifetime.
I hate when people stare.
It makes me feel stupid like I did something wrong.
Like I can never do anything right.
Their pupils eyeballing leaving a scar on my heart.
Like I’m nothing.
Worthless.
Like I should just shut up and never speak again.
Second guessing my thoughts.
Second guessing my words.
Second guessing my actions.
Second guessing myself.
Am I doing this right?
I’m just a little girl why do I have to be scarred with this.
I know this is small but why does it feel so huge?
I truly hate myself because I can’t even be myself.
This imperfection is taking away myself. 
I can’t accept it so I guess I’m giving up on myself.
Myself, I’m not accepting you because they don’t.
They don’t say it but they hate you.
I know they do. 
It’s their unspoken glares that gives it away.
I wanna fit in.
Forget about you.
I’m gonna accept me through their acceptance of me.
I’m leaving you.
I rather be fake then be myself if that’s what it takes to find me.
Goodbye.
I’m fake I love it.
This front that I put on is my make-up.
It makes me look so beautiful so I’m never taking it off.
I get to be two different people.
Slide in with the bad crowd.
Cursing, saying every curse word.
Stealing candy after recess from my teacher’s desk.
Kissing behind the tree.
Being fresh.
Letting boys feel up on me in school.
Sitting in the back of the school bus thinking I’m cool.
Giving a lap dance like it’s cool.
Like I’m cool when I finished. 
Cause everyone knew what I did.
Like I got stamped into popularity.
Boys are starting to notice me more.
 I like it.
I don’t care about school.
Boys are on my mind.
I want a boyfriend.
Degrading myself.
No confidence living in me.
I have no self-esteem.
Following their footsteps.
Don’t think twice about my wrong doings.
Don’t care that I have a mind of my own.
It doesn’t matter because whatever I’m thinking is wrong.
So forget it.
Can’t really say anything to someone who thinks everything they think, say and do is wrong.
They’ll believe and follow anybody.
I’m in my first house party.
I had to pay two bucks to get in.
Disgustingly dancing too close on a boy.
I don’t even know what I’m doing.
Loud party music going in and out my ears.
I can’t even hear myself speak.
I think I’m boy crazy.
I’m not promiscuous though. 
But I want all the attention.
The attention I receive comes with a price.
When I get to school I get a rubber band.
Tie it on the back of my shirt.
Holding a tight grip.
Making my shirt tight.
So I can show off my shape.
My back dimples showing.
I gotta be noticed.
My hair gotta be on point.
That’s the most important.
He touched my butt going to class.
 I’m doing something right.
 I’m getting attention.
So much attention.
I’m an expert.
Dress like I don’t respect myself.
Looking good.
 I have 4 or 5 boys trying to talk to me.
This is the life.
I got a bunch of guys numbers in my phone.
Most of them I don’t even know.
I hang out with a couple of em’.
He asked me was I a virgin in math class.
There’s a sub so nobody is paying attention.
It’s me, him and his friend having a conversation.
Sitting across from each other in our seats.
" You a virgin?"
I said no.
I lied.
If I told him “yes” he wouldn’t of found me attractive right?
We’re dating .
That same day.
It’s Halloween.
He called me up.
I’m surprised.
We hung out one day.
Him and his cousin met up with me.
We walked to his apartment.
He’s tall, 6’2.
Curly hair.
Brown skin.
He kind of looked Indian.
With tattoos on his arms that made me notice him.
Carrying a book bag with black and white boxes designs on it.
Entered his apartment.
I sniffed.
It smelled like pure weed.
He showed me his book bag in it had a bunch of small bags.
That smell wasn’t unfamiliar.
I put two and two together and found out I was dating a drug dealer.
We only dated for about 3 months then I never heard from him.
Every bad thing I do leaves a scar on me for life.
 This is how I’m supposed to live.
Talking to numerous boys at the same time.
Being fresh with guys in parties.
Getting their numbers.
Getting attention.
Being the flyest.
A fashionista.
Hair done all the time.
Jewelry game gotta be up to par. 
Gotta have some type of make-up on.
Gotta act like I got it all together.
Like I’m confident.
Gotta have an attitude.
Gotta get in trouble in school but can’t let my family no about it.
Not cool to get good grades.
C’s and D’s are okay.
Maybe a B.
Not cool to always go to class and be on time.
Sleep in class.
Don’t pay attention to the subject being taught.
Purposely pull out my cellphone in class just to be smart.
Catch a nasty attitude with the teachers. 
Be in the bathroom and skip class.
Skip class, acting like I’m going to the bathroom and go to lunch.
Get involved with drama.
Get into a almost fist fight with a neighborhood guy friend.
Talking about go get your sister.
Sexually lusting.
Watch porn.
Gotta fornicate cause that’s what I see on TV.
My desire is to be the bad girl but I act like the good girl.
Only to please the ones who thinks so much of me.
I can’t show them this other person.
They’re mouth probably would drop.
My personality is hidden because I still haven’t accepted me.
Through all of this that I claim to be.
Playing two sides of the picture.
I know how to act to get exactly what I want.
I’m getting tired of all this fronting though.
It starting to get old.
I’m getting older. 
I’m wasting my years pretending to get my acceptance.
My drink ran out.
My cup is empty.
I need a refill.
I’m so thirsty.
I’m thirstin’ again.
I said goodbye to myself a long time ago.
Left my true way to acceptance.
He came back though and rescued me with a hug.
Tightly wrapping his arms around my body
I got saved in my room 
Reading over the scripture John 3:16 over and over.
For some reason it was confusing.
I couldn’t understand why this sinless man would sacrifice his life for a sinful person.
On the cross shedding all his blood.
Nails in his feet and hands.
All so I can be made right in the sight of his Father by my little faith.
That I just couldn’t understand. 
It took me a long time to believe in him.
I cried.
Became deep in thought of every bad thing I did which made me so lost.
My mind reminisced. 
Sin is real.
It wanted me dead.
Spiritually.
Quietly.
Alone so no one knew.
Tightly closed my lips with a safe lock.
No one had the key but me.
To scared to open it up because all my vulnerabilities would come out.
Matter of fact run out and start chasing me down.
I wanted to resist them.
But I couldn’t.
I got exposed so my heart no longer remained closed.
Everything that I thought that was in the closet.
Secret up’d.
Came out before my own eyes.
I thought he didn’t know my secrets but he knew every last one.
Shame written on my face when I kneeled down for his forgiveness.
He forgave me.
Gave me a new intimate relationship with him.
I’m good enough for him?
I thought I was good.
Like I’m not that bad of a person.
I’m good.
I’m a good girl.
But then he showed me my sins.
How they kept me away for so long from him and his undeserving, everlasting, unconditional love.
He spoke nothing but endless truth up into my naïve ears.
Not used to hearing the real.
Used to listening to lies and believing in em’.
So his words took awhile to sink into my heart.
I questioned his love for me because of the one who lied to me so much.
He told me I wasn’t good enough.
And this man says I’m accepted.
Made right if I just believe in his one and only Son?
Jesus?
What? 
This can’t be real.
Just like that.
He distanced me from everyone so I could intimately get to know him.
He said, I love you.
I hear you all the time.
I answer you.
I see your every move.
I know everything about you.
I desire for you to get to know me the way I know you.
Not by duty but because you sincerely want to.
Satan lied to me so many times.
He doesn’t agree with my decision.
He doesn’t want to see me believe in God.
He doesn’t want to see me change.
He doesn’t want to see me expose myself of my sins.
Speak the truth that I received.
He doesn’t want me to be confident.
He doesn’t want me to love myself.
He doesn’t want me to write poetry and talk about my faith.
He doesn’t want me to have a voice.
He wants me to shut up.
And keep on believing his lies.
But the blood of Christ is real.
His sacrifice made a way for me.
To come to God.
Took my sins away. 
Took my shame away.
Made me holy.
God’s standing up for me when lies travel back into my mind.
I’m moving forward in my faith.
Chains being broken starting in my mind.
I’m sticking to the truth.
I’m good.