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Gods gifts

Woman you are a saint!
You have sewed together souls to bodies that would have never had a chance to survive.

You’re gods golden glue as he  binds you with wisdom and passion. You rock it  in a
Christian like  fashion that only a woman of god would understand.

Woman you are fierce.
Your sentiment is your pain. Your joy is your power!

Woman you are breathtaking.
With every word spoken and unspoken. You are full of charismatic character, god took his time shaping you. You breathe love and live life and you're sanctified by the word.

Man you’re are steadfast and sturdy.
Built solid as  you are the foundation to a nation. You are everything a black man wishes to be. Successful, loved and carelessly happy.

Man you are driven.
Working down to the bones building America’s back.
No fear or challenge could stop you from being promised.

Man you are sealed.
Guarding the souls of gods children. Protecting them by all means.
Cool ,placid and reserved as a lion takes its time to feast.

Y’all are gods gifts. He speaks vicariously through you. Time has giving you the scares and beauty to demand respect. How you survived in a world that did not accept you but in the end found love and gave love to all in your presence.

Sitting back thinking of stories of getting outdated public school books, and sitting outside cafes because you were not welcomed inside. Stories of segregated schools and teaching fear for  knowledge in the black community. How teachers would tell their students that they weren’t qualified for simple jobs like at a post office. How fear had been installed in the black community to protect them for whatever White America had brewing. Be a smart nigga by being a dumb one.

My grandparents faced the odds of addiction, strike 3 convictions, broken homes and lack of education.
 They are the definition of black excellence.

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The Help

Soul Dancing Unapolgetically

 I have been too fearful of my own potential, my own strengths and my own voice. I let my broken pieces define me and became content with being a mess.  Is everyone this hard on themselves or am I too rigid to see that my flaws are human, nothing less. That my pain is identifiable that my fears are shackles of the brain, and my potential is undeniable.  Where did I learn to self-hate? Who can I truly Blame for such an ugly pattern of I’m not happy to wake up and see my own face.  I get so stuck in my misery that I block out the whole world until I feel like myself  again.   It takes too much energy to dwell in the past, and even more to pass around smiles that are fake.  I find myself disconnecting from my core, and I see only the masquerade I bore. It gets dark, so dark when you’re an empath who can feel to the depths of ones soul.  I will take on all the negative energy but in hopes that something nurturing can be reborn.  They say don’t let anyone throw that on you and I won’t anymo

Belong To Me

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Scars of the Empath

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