Dirt balls

Trouble doan come

Gimme a hand Lawd, I prayed and I prayed

yet, she fighting, he fighting and nobody knows the answers to the problem

who are you asking for help, though?

Anybody other than Jesus?

You putting it in his hand. This.

This, this, descent into further madness

Psychosis, delusion, narcosis, prelude us,

Diagnosis. He mad, mad, mad.

“He ain’t want no help.”

Mama says “What do you want me to do? Tell me.”

My heart breaks. How do I say,  “Let go.”

Is it even my place? Long have I silenced my opinions

Long have I silenced my opinions.

From childhood until now

everything for the sake of the peace

My outward aggressions misconstrued from the sewn opinions I threaded into my mind

“She unmannerly.”, “She face always push up.”

I just thinking. I have a lot of thoughts

I am supposed to smile though and no matter what darkness I feel


But I DON’T.

Stop judging me!

Stop judging me!

I gine tell silent God pun you.

He is my Father in Heaven.

That’s what  I was taught. Indoctrinated.

He real silent now.

As I watch the “devil” run rampant in the lives of my loved ones

I am screaming to no one.

I ain’t talking to no one.

I am my counsellor.

I am my strength.

I don’t want your pity either.

I just want it to stop.

The descent into madness that drags everyone I love

Through the mud.

I feel dirty.



Black Feminisms Blog Carnival





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