I know many of us who want to forget about the boys
who want to forget about the girls that masqueraded their temporary moments in our lives as forever We want to forget the way their bitter tasted sweet on our tongues the way it smelled like hope to our lungs as we inhaled their promises and gave them a life that would only be aborted in the end In the end when they turned their backs on us like too many black folks have done their pride like too many church folks that have abandoned God in all that religion They left us clutching the stems of dying roses in our hands so the thorns break skin and our love is crucified And although we were made in His image, there is no resurrection after a death so brutal We have not the power to roll away the stones that keep us locked in an emotional prison They took away our freedom Our freedom to trust arms or hands that want to hold us because we suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Their arms look too much like guns pointed Marine style: a mix of death and gorgeous And I ain't neva seen a Vet willingly run back to a bloody war We want to let go but our memories are the fingerprints of our past And there is no one around to tell us what to do when life breaks your heart But spectators tell us to forget about him her When we are hurting because of a feeling so strong that God was willing to let His son die for it We are imperfect and broken people trying to love and be loved by other imperfect and broken people But because some of us are so blind and disrespectful, we don't even notice we're just killing each other And this tragedy is a civil war that has no happy ending #diaryofadayumpoet © ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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Author"I was blessed with the ability to make ugly look pretty. This is my superpower." Archives
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