See what one glass does, when the body rejects it. As I see what my mind sworn, when God corrects it. If only my man knew, he was the apply to my rye. And the bun in my oven beneath my pulsing eye. Oh heavens, forget it.

Not everyone has the luck of being able to survive the cruel world; women and men are in danger equally, and that is the only thing equal about us.

a poem about how time moves by faster than you realize in the moment. one blink and everything is changing.

Follow me as I figure out what love means to me as a young 15 year old girl trying to find her identity.

Not quite the Cinderella story, but it’s fitting. It makes sense. It could be true, and it could just happen again. Just maybe.

a poem about feeling stuck in a relationship, one that you wished for, for forever, but all it does is hurt.

This is somewhat of a personal issue on my behalf. It goes through my struggles revolving around my gender identity and the struggles that goes along with it.

If you're thinking of ending it all... well I can't stop you. but at least make the note look pretty.

I almost recognize myself... and then I don't. Even the parts of me I thought were still mine. It's not that it ended... it's that everything kept going without it.

I got good at being believed... But it's always in the eyes. That's the part you can't train out of yourself. The truth always slips through somewhere.

You never really saw me—not the way I saw you. To you, I was just Kierra… a name, a moment, never a choice. I started comparing myself to girls I don’t even know, shrinking, reshaping, wondering what they had that I didn’t. I had a million reasons to choose you, but you never gave me one to stay. I learned how to love you in silence, hiding my feelings, going quiet for hours, pretending I didn’t care just to protect what little of me was left. And the craziest part is, I would’ve taken every hit, every heartbreak, just to keep you safe—even if I was always just Kierra to you.

A poem about my ideal revenge against someone who's hurt me in the past. Yes I'm spiteful, there, said it so you don't have to.

A personal poem here. its about someone who betrayed me, and how I've had thoughts of hurting them. Don't worry, I'm not actually going to do what is detailed in this poem, thats why it will remain as nothing more than a piece of writing.

"This is how we live: moving through the gray, doing the necessary work, and keeping our eyes open for the moments the light decides to bend for us. If you want to follow along as we document the raw, the real, and the occasional color in the storm, subscribe to stay in the loop."

this is a piece about what survival can start to cost when it goes on too long. about loving someone while slowly disappearing beside them. about the quiet moments no one talks about, the ones that don’t look like breaking but are. it’s not pretty, not softened. just real. if you’ve ever felt yourself slipping away in silence while someone you love watched and didn’t know how to stop it… this is for you.

I wrote this from the middle of it— not after healing, not after closure— but while I was still unraveling in real time. This is what it feels like when love starts slipping through your hands and you don’t know if you’re losing them or losing yourself trying to hold on.

This wasn’t written from clarity. It was written while I was in the middle of it... trying to figure out what love actually is and what I’ve been calling love just because it stayed. This is me dealing with my own shit. Realizing some things don’t need to be fixed… they need to be ended.

Studies have shown that 1 out of 5 women are infertile, at the same time 1 out of 4 women have found themselves in toxic relationships, I created this poem to illustrate the sad story of many women out there, This is the story Mrs. Balcom, a fictional character that meets these problems & has the urge to escape them.

This is a biography I did when I started to feel like my relationship with people was useless in a sense.

Content Warning: This poem discusses self-harm and suicidal ideation. Please prioritize your well-being before reading. This piece symbolizes my internal struggle with the desire to give up and the eventual journey toward overcoming it. I hope it resonates with you. <3