United States

High School
African American
I write a lot of romance.

Message from Writer

Love your body, because you are your body, not in the sense of it being the only thing by which you are judged, but in the sense of it being the vessel for your soul and the protector of your mind.


May 4, 2020



Staring up at the sky, 
Into the void of space,
With gravity as my anchor.
Where does love come from?

Guns in the distance,
Nah, I’m not scared.
But I don’t wanna do paintball.

Hide. Shiver. Run.
Phone slams onto the ground.
Like this house, I broke this house.

The flowery glass case,
Now a safety hazard.
Car door slams.
I’m sorry, Daddy,

I didn’t mean for it to get this far.
I’m sorry you’re angry with me.
Or with it.
The malfunction.

Panic, clawing at my throat.
In my heart, in my lungs, oh no,
My lungs are filling with panic,
Panic in my bones, everywhere.
A poem about some of the sources of my anxiety.


See History
  • May 4, 2020 - 4:03pm (Now Viewing)

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