Anthem, or Thirteen Reasons Why Not, or Things I Tell Myself on Dark Nights


According to a report by the Department of Agriculture, it costs approximately $233,610 to raise a child, which was enough for my mother to buy 4 porsches or pay off all her student loan debt, but instead she decided to almost give her life and all the blood in her body for me to live a little,

To see the stars and make them my own

And she must have believed that there is goodness enough in this world for these verses to grow that there is strength enough in these verses for these verses to grow.


Will she still believe in goodness when I’m gone?


I experimented with glass cleaner seven weeks ago and it tasted disgusting, so I decided if I’m going to put something unhealthy in my body it might as well be chocolate.




I have never loved a man before but I wonder what it’s like to find a home in someone else’s arms,

To be drawn so close that magic is almost real again.


She is light, breath, hugs, coffee beans, tea, dark chocolate, salad, mentor, vault, person, and total dork and I promised I would not hurt myself.


I cannot bear the thought of another black body snatched by oppression and cut up into poetry.


Because I will have a daughter someday, and when depression slips into her little fingers and tries to wrench her voice out of her throat, I will need to be there to tell her how powerful she is.


Because a black woman will become president someday and put the world back on its axis again and I need to be there to write her speeches.


I have learned that when happiness is not a gift but a bar fight, keep punching, because people who live with mental illness are only ever always warriors. And I no longer give depression license to smother my stars, but I thank it for the fight that has allowed me to see them.


My voice is a cosmic flame

Too big and too hot for any coffin.


I am a poet


I am a poet


I am a poet


I am a poet


I have so, so much more to say.

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