The bayou has made me woman. My scars will tell this story: How death's kiss brought life, How poison turned to power, How a girl became her own salvation. In these waters, I was unmade And remade, Baptized by fang and fate Into the priestess of my own becoming.

This poems about my mom, I didn’t get to know her as much as I would of liked, but this poem is how I feel

Must we do this every day The same damn thing the same damn way They say routine will comfort you Make a routine of what you do

This poem was requested. Someone wanted a poem about hanging onto past mistakes that pull them away from the future.

Poem about suicide and how it doesn't take away the pain, it just passes it on to others. There's no cure, it kills either way.

Some past times are better left dreamt. But though only, will it find its way back into the eyes that gleam for joy. They say memories will fade, but in some life spent, they don’t.

Our world is made of digits we can't see or feel Greedy little digits I hardly think are real Everyone is running destinations unknown

This is going to be full of raw emotion, it’s gonna have things that make you cry and question life, but it will also have things that make you laugh and smile, just depends on what I feel that day.

This odd feeling, when staring at the ceiling and there’s no rainbows or delighted pictures…when all you have is what you came into this world with…and the more you stare at this blank canvas, you begin to uproot fear and try.

Oh lord when is the end? Has it already started or is it already over? I think Countless thoughts over again, oh lord when is the end? I start too tear up thinking about my past and my present why must my life be bad even after a up there are so many downs today was the worst of this week was the writing prompt i did this week foreshadowing? I stop and think. It all blew up in my face and im stuck on the same pace, endless crying, endless heartbreak, endless pain! Why must i always be in vain? then im back where i started oh lord when is the end?

He didn't make it easy when god gave me this brain. He said it will be rewarding but you won't think the same He didn't make it pleasant

He didn't make it easy when god gave me this brain. He said it will be rewarding but you won't think the same He didn't make it pleasant

The dark places in my heart find no flaw in others but highlight every misshapen piece of me. They see beauty in the eyes of the broken but to look upon my own reflection is to see what can’t be mended

Sometimes it's hard to remember that you are not your disorders, but when the bad times shuffle off, turning it into writing can help you deal with them better.

The nostalgia of childhood, it's a very bittersweet thing for some. I'm part of that some, so I wrote a poem about it.

No matter who you are, the color of your skin, or the shape of your body. You are important, and you matter.

Sometimes, when we are in love, we are too focused on the joy to realize how much pain we are in. Just because they are good to you, doesn't mean they are right for you.

I wrote this when I first fell in love. I was confused about the feeling as I had always believed I was incapable of love.

Open your eyes ‘they say’, a better world awaits when there is no chase. Be that it may round trip its way to a grandiose scheme to order the mind for sell. Or leave it at the register box. Where you don’t need a mind, there’s no place of temperament.

I swallowed my pain while I made space for yours. I allowed you to steer me into a position I resented and I have to face myself because I could have walked away at any time.