Story of make believe 

Hello, I am black

It is not who I am but the color of my skin

Not my name but what I am known for

Hello,I am black

This is a statement and fact

Something to which I can not change

No matter how much others may want it

I can not dye it a certain flavor

To make it easier for others to savour

It doesn’t change my insides

Though I know how much you want me to hide

Hi, I am black

This fact holds me back

Makes others decide my fate in life

Not allowed to say my piece before it is pointed out to me

That I am, in fact, black

Judge and hated by those who crave it

A rebellious phase to touch

Punished lust, so hide we must

Locked doors with a passion

My skin worn like Fashion

Hello, I am black

This statement brings a bad taste to your mouth

Apology accepted for your ancestors lies

Yet sit and swallow your own words everytime a

Black person gives you a verse

Judge least not be judged

Your ancestors chose a path that you have since denied

Yet you turn a blind eye to what has not changed

Hi, I am black

I am still suppose to sit towards the back

Accept the fact that you are the golden one

Shut my mouth against the hurt and the pain

That you have since spit anyways

But it is not always your fault

See others who share my trait still hate

Still try and hit me behind the stable

Cause I am different and unable

To love someone with the same traits

The same facts as me.

Call me a slave who loves thy master

Stockholm Syndrome spewed from a friendly pastor.

Whose only saving Grace is their age.

Their wisdom behind what truly happened.

Laying with the same face that beats and rapes

Is this what was suppose to happen?

Have I made my ancestors proud?

Hello, I am black

And this fact has shaped my very being

Made me say an do things I do not mean

Made me afraid of change for change sake

Made me hate those who continue to debate the truth

The truth being that I am just like you.

With all my traits, we are the same

On the inside at least

My skin should not be the factor for my future and my past

Should not be the reason I am set back by the classes

Hated by masses who look like me

Speak like me

Think like me

All because I am black

Hated by those who hurt like me

Who are broken like me

Who live their lives like me

Because I decided to ignore the divide

And love someone I shouldn’t

There is a thin line between us all yet I dared to be the bridge

So watch as others shield the eyes of their kids

Watch as they turn their backs on my fact

Because of whom I love and the color that is me

Hello, I am black

This is statement and fact

But it should not define me

Ideal situations: My BPD 

Do you think they would tell her why I did it? Or would they keep it a secret and let her guess.

Would they tell her that I gave up on life?

Or would they explain to her how much I tried to survive.

Tell her how much I love her and how I cared. How many days I spent crying cause I wanted to be there. Those days I hated myself she is the only one who could make me believe.

In the end will they tell her the truth or would they just pretend?

I often wonder what would happen if I was to give in. I can’t do it cause I love her so, but damn, I want my life to end.
What would they tell my little girl if I was to succeed.  A bunch of bullshit lies or the truth they didn’t want to see.

I fucking hate myself and want to die but I can’t.

I have a little girl who needs me, at least that is what they tell me.

I think she will be ok. Rather be dead with her grieving then go about life hating the world because of my depression. Hating the world cause of my urges.

I rather her know that I love her and I tried then go through life hating it cause I made it hell.
But still…

If I did it what would they tell her.

My precious baby girl, what would they say.

In my head my death is a welcomed gift. Finally things will be ok.

But would they tell her this. Or would they make her think she was a mistake.

I love her so very much. Why Can’t I be allowed to give up?

I know they will tell her lies so that is why I stay. I stay so she will know that I love her everyday. I know her life will be hell and I know she may regret me. Still, I will be the bigger person and live despite being so empty

I called a duck by it’s name… it bit me

She called me whimsical. 

How quaint the word

Flows from the tongue as a playful verb

Haha no, it’s an adjective as google says

Had to look up the word cause my head wasn’t on straight.

Lyrically speaking I was blinded by fate

Texting a friend who was suppose to guess my name

Yet she caught on to my simple game

Cause apparently I speak in an amusing way.

I can’t but to give a little chuckle.

A cutesy little smile

How did she guess all this when we hadn’t been talking but a while.

She guessed my personality with some simple words.

Learned all I am because I speak in a verse

A poet I may be

A tiny bit insane

Mainly cause musical words make up 90% of my brain

Yet she knew. 

Despite all the friends to be had she know

I can not say if I am glad to be discovered so soon. 

A/N

Dedicated to all the Ambers of this world. You all are way to smart for your own good. Let us sly foxes and grinning cats have some fun every once in awhile ok. 

The Tape: Unheard Lyrics Are The Loudest, Side A

I love the way you scream.  How your blood seeps into my skin. I truly hope that this moment never ends. Can you see how this may excite me? How this has been a dream come true? 

I bet you are scared aren’t you? Don’t lie now, I can see the fear in your eyes. Want me to tell you a story? About how I got I got these scars in my wrist? About how, for awhile, I couldn’t think past the bullet jn my head. I can tell it to you darling.  Let you see the true me. Just know though, I am telling you this cause you will never have the chance to tell anyone else. Cause I am going to kill you. Oh no don’t shake your head and cry more. You knew this was going to happen. You knew that this was result of your very own actions. 

Where to begin…

Oh yes…

See, my name is Hannah.

….to be continued…

Bleed in thy name

An often cliche question right before one dies

“Where is God”

The devote Christian cries.

Before the trigger is pulled

And brain matter is allowed to splatter 

A question is asked

Though the answer doesn’t matter.

As they run place to place

A students blood freash on thier face

They ask a question 

Though they don’t truly care

A cliched question

A poetic end

“Where is God

The supposed Saviour to us all?”

Only a bullet wound 

is the respected response. 

I was reading an article on facebook (I am cheap and will not buy a news paper) and saw that there was a school shooting. Actually, there where multiple school shootings. In some people died while in others people where badly wounded. Still someone suffered in the end. 

I know Christians who want to kill themselves.  Despite it being a sin in their religion, they want to end it. I am not saying religion is a hoax due to that. It helps so many people; but it is not a save all heal all thing. Same can be said for those who do not believe in the idea of religion. 
The thing I am getting at is everyone suffers. Everyone experiences some sort of pain. Yet the one question many of us ask ourselves during this time is is there a God. If we believe or not he does come up. It is ingrained into many of our societies that he is real, so when feeling depressed is often hard to not think of him….or her….or them. 

So the cliche of the day before the trigger is pulled

        “Where is God?”

Murder, She wrote

I often find myself reading psychological books where people are forced to face some past demon. Maybe they were abused growing up or they witnessed something they shouldn’t have. Maybe they had a moment of weakness and it cost someone their life. I love this type of stories because they can bring me comfort or even force me to see things. When I see them I also get to read about how people overcame these obstacles and found something close to happiness.

Funny thing is that sometimes the main character may have to go seek professional help. They are diagnosed and if you, like me, love looking up mental illness, you can sometimes can an “Ah yep understandable” moment.

I recently had one where a man was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder.  In the story I read he was hurt as a child by his father and also watched as his father killed another little boy. His life was full of abuse even as he reached adulthood yet his quirks seemed so familiar to me. They were much like my own that before I even got to the chapter where he was diagnosed I started to question things.

He has this urge to paint, to tell his story. To finally undo this lie he was forced to keep. If he didn’t paint he would basically escape into himself and a ‘monster’ would take over. When that happened people were hurt bad.

The story was pretty much talking about his journey with overcoming it all and being able to love someone.  This was a psychological romance (m/m cause a duh) that left me crying.

It touched on things I have never even told my therapist for fear they would find me an unfit parent. How there are times when I feel like someone is watching me. They are so very angry. I know exactly who they are but I can’t tell anyone. Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night I can hear them talking (it is usually only one…or at least it has been since my daughter was born)

I know who she is and I know that with time I won’t feel her presence anymore.

I don’t know why it took a fictional book to help me realize that what I am going through is normal. I am pretty sure most would question my already fading sanity levels if I had told them.

But it is true. This book helped me a lot. I will probably never be as brave as this fictional character.  I will probably never have the type of love that they received either. Nor will I get the kind of support and dedication that I need to make it through this life as they did. I am not alone though.

Reading has always been something that saved me. I could focus on someone elses trouble for a while. My life isn’t perfect at all but it is my life. It may not make sense to believe this book helped me despite me writing as though I am helpless towards my future. I mean I do not think I have a future but this book did help me. I am not alone in what I feel.

My life isn’t some written fiction someone made up. I may not have the perfect ending to it but it is mine. In time my thoughts could change. But just knowing that I am not alone brings me a world of comfort.
There she follows

To and fro

A little girl I forget to know

Shackled to a hurtful past

She haunt my conscience so the pain will last

I regret the cause that brought her near

Regret the dreams I have grown to fear

The little girl who cases

To and fro

The little girl who won’t leave me alone

So I write her story

I write her song

I write all the way I have done her wrong

So that she may go to sleep another day

Until she is once again ready to play

*****************************************

The book that made me feel this way can be found here (via author website. She has a lot of other books that deal with some tough issues)

Or directly on amazon here

She is an amazing writer so check her out if you like m/m novels.