I feel very deeply,
Sensual expression through wordsmithing,
Emotional penetration to the core,
Cannot control the flow of its intensity,
Expressing affection,
Sinking into the euphoria I’ve been seeking,
Releasing from the tension,
That kept me chained to this mental oppression.

You don’t recognize my pain,
Even when you’re the one inflicting it,
You claim that “What I been through was nothing,”
Despite the faces of death I’ve witnessed,
You gaslight me while you have me tied up,
I’m tired of…
This denial of reality makes me wanna punish myself for being so weak.

Never that.
Because I’ve overcame things that delete many,
I know that for a fact.

I’m a soldier ascending into spiritual royalty,
I convert hatred into passion,
But my mind is trapped,
Tapped into the spirit, but also
In a dimension that yells in my head,
Obscenities that cause obscurity to my identity,
But somehow…
Love still lives within me,
Its potency arising from the crevices of my broken self,
Somehow survived the fires,
But no one believes it when they see my face,
Youthful and beautiful,
I don’t look like what I’ve been through,
Glowing with angelic light,
Magnetic yet threatening.

I don’t look like I’m from here,
Bionic forming ionic bonds with traumas,
Hated for no reason because I’m not supposed to have self-esteem,
They have no empathy for a body that heals fast,
Because I’ve managed to carry-on
Like it never happened.

This path has been treacherous,
But I’ve learned many lessons, like
How to survive from being broken down,
psychologically,
While recovering my mind,
To heights greater than those who looked down on me from their raggedy balcony.

Venomous snakes I was taught to charm as a form of survival,
A mode I was molded into by the molten rocks they tried to burn me with,
Their infatuation fuels the fire needed to produce the medicine I provide samples of, so they can get a taste of their own,
They can’t reduce what seduces them,
Nor bite the hand that heals them through the verbiage of bitter truth that cuts through their illusions.

Illustrious movements of the pen that promote neural sparks that awaken consciousness,
Or so I hope,
Poetic prose serves as a form of hypnosis,
To cause self-reflection that opens doors and closes portals,
Repelling the soulless,
All for the purpose of growth.