God, I thank You, For your trust in me, so pure and true. On this journey, you’ve guided my way, Showing me the light even in the darkest days. My God, as I kneel before You, I place all my worry and pain in Your name, Knowing that you will carry me, And in your love, I am finally free. You’ve protected me through every storm, Through every trial, through every form Of suffering, I’ve come to understand It was you who held me with your gentle hand. Please protect me and those I love, Even the ones who gave up on me. In this moment, I set myself free, Free to be who I am meant to be. I embrace the light, I embrace the day, No more shadows will block my way. I walk forward, head held high, Grateful for life, for love, for the sky. I am finally free.

They always ask if you two are still together, when they’ll give anything to stir the pot and so happen to brake the two of you up. But sometimes your friends are right…what are we still doing together??

It’s never because you’re not cute enough, or your hair doesn’t flip the same way when you first met. I will say, it can be, simply put, that his eyes have changed from a gory pink to a bright summer green.

Around so many, but still just a thought... I wish for someone to know that even in crowds, my loneliness grows. Its a strange feeling, being right here, yet feeling so distant, unseen and unheard. I hope for a day when someone will truly see the person that's me, Just waiting to be freed from this invisible cage.

My scar An original poem about my struggle with dissociation and the way childhood trauma creeps its way back into your life even as an adult. The lesson that pain does not cease at the external layer.

The city's soul is lost in her night, forever trapped in her endless light, we're shadows of fear, living in her sway

She had everything that looked right from the outside—a decent job, a quiet apartment, and the applause of others who mistook perfection for peace. But beneath the polished routines and polite smiles, Emma felt like a ghost inside her own life. When a nameless ache pushes her through the streets of Cincinnati and into a dusty old shop tucked between forgettable buildings, she stumbles upon a mirror—one that doesn't show appearances, but truths. It reflects not who she is, but who she was before the world taught her to forget. This is the story of what happens when the life you’ve built is suddenly confronted by the person you’ve buried. When your reflection isn’t just glass—it’s a reckoning. In a world that rewards surface over soul, Emma begins a journey that will awaken her—and everyone around her—to the cost of hiding from your own truth. Some mirrors show your face. This one shows your purpose.

A short poem that goes through my tidal waves of emotions as I come to terms with the final fight with my best friend and also coping with the feeling that maybe we hadn't been friends before the fight even happened.

Here’s a short excerpt you can use to hook readers into wanting to read the full story: ⸻ Nia always felt something was off, but she never knew why. Her skin was darker than her siblings’, her hair curlier, her eyes shaped differently. But it wasn’t until a simple science project in school that everything she thought she knew about her family came crashing down. Her blood type didn’t match her parents’. Was she really Marcus’s daughter, the man who raised her with so much love? The truth she uncovers shakes her to the core. But even as the pieces of her identity fall apart, Nia discovers that family isn’t about blood—it’s about the ones who choose to stay.

I Am the Tower ( MARs) A Personal Reflection on Reclaiming Myself There was a time I thought I needed saving, that someone, anyone, would come and lift me from the weight of my own life. I waited. I hoped. But in the silence and absence of rescue, I found something else: myself. I used to call a place "home," but it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. Maybe it never was. Or maybe I outgrew it, the way storms outgrow the sea. It was during a time of great stillness, maybe even darkness, that I realized what I once clung to for safety was holding me back.

Another poem that I am using in several upcoming projects. This one is extremely personal to me and speaks to the longing I have for a certain special someone.

Beyond the pale black, echoes of silence. My heart beats slow, a funeral pace. Emotions died in empty space

The change you seek in life must begin with you. And as life progress, we must learn to adapt and grow for the change we seek so bad in life.

“Now in my death, no matter how much I pleaded and begged, I was considered a threat. So I am asking this for my kids… Why do you still look at the color of my skin as a weapon?” JLHenry returns with Part II, the ghost of a man forced to narrate his own injustice. His voice—posthumous but thunderous—calls out the systems, the silence, and the stories twisted after the trigger is pulled. “Where’s the empathy? Where’s your humanity?” This isn’t just poetry—it’s protest. It’s grief. It’s truth that won’t die quietly.

"These sacrifices that I'm making now Are so they can grow old. This is for my daughters—my babies— The two halves of my whole soul.” A father's love written in sacrifice, sealed with resilience. In Distant Father, JLHenry lays bare the pain of separation and the quiet strength behind every decision made in the shadows. This is not just a poem—it’s a promise. A confession. A legacy in words. For every man grinding in silence, for every daughter wondering if Daddy still cares—this one speaks volumes.

Excerpt from PART I by JLHenry “Do you see me? No, do you really see me? My very essence? My being? I am more than a Black man—I am a father, a son, a brother. Why even bother when all you see is a monster?” A routine stop. A conversation turned confrontation. Obedience met with violence. “I’m just trying to make it back to my family… in one piece.” As ribs shatter under bullets and breath slips away, the silence screams louder than sirens. JLHenry’s PART I is not just a poem—it’s a cry, a chronicle, a confrontation with systemic injustice. Feel the fear. Taste the tragedy. Witness the truth

Excerpt from "The Eyes of a Broken Man" by JLHenry “He walks a lonely path, as he battles himself. Pushed away everyone else. He doesn't want his pain to be felt by the people he loves the most. So he remains calm and controlled. Constantly retrospective of his soul. Dedicated to making those around him feel whole— Even though his heart has a hole.” These are the eyes of a broken man—not seeking pity, but understanding. Through poetry and prose, I expose what most conceal. Step into the storm, feel the silence, and maybe—find your own reflection in the depth.

I hide. I hide away my body. I hide when I have to shower and take off my clothes only just to look on the mirror and realize..maybe I have gained weight. The silence stands still. As I stare at myself, the guilt covers me. I could only wish my reflection could look back and tell me i’m pretty.

"Lump of Love" is a poem to describe butterflies in a way, the work is written to express the green light to move past nervousness when on a first date or a casual hangout. Love is okay, love is human, love is just...natural.