Let’s Talk About Worth

Let’s talk about worth.

Like when life goes from hard to worse and you find yourself down in the dirt like you were born to crawl.

I find myself slammed against brick walls, and the world acts like they can’t see the outlines of the bodies on the ground beneath.

Sorry, you’ve got blood on your shoes, you don’t know what it’s like to have nothing lose. Say another prayer, tell me that I matter, as you step on broken hands and walk on.

Another gold star for you!

Let’s talk about worth.

Like when life goes from hard to worse because the people you need bleed green and blue.

Hope? That’s the real joke. Sorry, I can’t afford justice like you. Poverty since birth, just a kid with a job, I know hard work.

Sleeping in school, waving goodbye to my youth as I skipped the next class because adult bills were due. And you?

Cheerleader, captain of the football team, your daddy was a millionaire, so your laziness got you into Harvard! Let’s talk about worth.

Not allowed to eat out because you’re gay or you’re black with a plastic spoon in your mouth. ‘No transgender allowed!’ Only silver.

Let’s talk about worth!

Like when life goes from hard, then it goes to worse, and you find yourself down on the ground, like you were born to crawl in the dirt! Let’s talk about worth!

I see your real value now.

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Need help? The Trevor Project, 1-866-488-7386. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 1-800-273-8255 (TALK). Crisis Text Line, 741-741.

This Is How Kingdoms Fall

Testing, testing, can I get mic check? Yo! I don’t know.

I’m tired of people talking like they might know me.

Looking at my love like maybe it isn’t enough; like maybe my beauty and my strength make them angry.

The red on my lips isn’t lipstick, it’s blood. Drawn from the mouths of everyone who has cared—hands half in the air, heart not really there, heads looking within. They don’t have a clue who I am, but they talk it.

Toast another fucking beer. Are you listening?

I sang a pretty song, wore a pretty skirt, damn. I guess I got the words wrong. I must’ve asked for it. Let’s have a real talk.

Empty parking lots with violent bodyguards—hear no evil, speak no evil, watch! Walk like the pain didn’t break me.

Officer, do you want me down on my knees for justice? Or should I just suck your cock? Are. you. listening?

This is how kingdoms fall, Y’all.

Kings treating queens like prisoners. Nooses strung up in the dark! Silence rooted in pain and we clap as we watch!

I won’t go. Do you hear me?

Fuck this charade. Let all the balloons float away. I will kill all of the roses to build my own hope.

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Need help? National Domestic Violence Hotline, 1-800-799-7233 (SAFE). National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 1-800-273-8255 (TALK). RAINN, 1-800-656-4673 (HOPE).

It’s A F*cking Joke

He’s leaving today, and I guess he’s the only one who gets to be a miserable little fuck about it.

His heart tied around his finger like he’s running to hope, it’s a fucking joke.

But he can’t hold is head up at five in the morning, and he hasn’t been able to type a real text for months.

It’s a fucking joke, the lies we tell ourselves when we’re half dead and headed for broke. Pretending other people aren’t holding the rope.

‘It’s a hard road and I’m tired and I need my family by my side!’ Like I wasn’t his family once.

Bloodless brothers and mothers and sisters, signing tombstones before the skin ever gets cold, it’s a fucking joke.

He’s leaving today and I guess he’s the only one who matters
different state, a different love.

The kind you can control as you shove it down someone’s throat and pretend you don’t know.

I’m sorry I can’t live up to your standards, Boo!
I got my demons in my pocket and they’re whispering lies.

They’re on my side, I do this for me, it’s not about you,
It’s none of your business.

Nope! And it’s a fucking joke.

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