Tribute to Left Eye ღ

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Left Eye was my musical inspiration. I didn’t try to copy her style, but her tough as nails, “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee” style made me rethink my inspirations for my music, writing, and poetry.

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No More Girls

Dress on
Hair down
Good girl off.
Ready to shrug off hearts
Hand them to you by a string.
I’m finally growing
A young cub
Now a budding lioness
Ready to hunt.
No love-lorn looks
No more pining
Pouting
Waiting.
I don’t need your fake love,
Your fleeting affections,
Your pitying gazes.
I’ll go it alone
Proud,
Strong,
Confident.
I don’t need a man
To make me be a woman.

Tears in Life

[Song: Chasing the Sun by The Wanted]

They guide my fears
They watch my tear streaks.
For all our problems,
They always want to blame me.
A scapegoat,
Can’t escape the responsibility.
They never care
As long as they’re not scared, but me.

He doesn’t see others,
He only sees me.
He says that I’m the problem
But never that he hates me.
He claims love,
Yet always discriminates.
The youngest get his love,
The older are too late.

I never wished for much,
But can’t you see me?
Love has always meant so much
To me.
I’ll always love you,
As you can see.
But I don’t think you’re good for me.

I love you, Daddy, but I can’t be near you anymore.

I love you family, but I see that I’ll never truly have your support.

I’ll drift along alone, looking for that special one.

And maybe then I will see the real sun.

Ave Atque Vale.

Growing Up

I’m learning that even when you are absolutely, 100% sure about your future…

Life is going to hit you with a curveball.

It all started with the Mayor’s Scholars Academy here in Nashville. I wasn’t too pepped to go. I originally thought that it would be parctically summer school. (It’s really not.) The first day, the two junior groups got together for College Connections. I hadn’t really payed attention to anyone because I hadn’t known anyone. That was, until they made us do introductions. And guess who was there that I’d never thought I’d see again?

My fourth grade crush.

And these past two weeks, after him saying he remembered me and obsessing over that, I’ve been kind of torn. I genuinely still like him, but I still like another guy that I’ve gone to school with since fifth grade. See my dilemma? No? That’s fine. I’ll just obsess over it alone.

Furthermore, their College Connections class has gotten me thinking more about college. I am not completely solid on my career path, but I think what I want right now is to major in psychology and go through the whole shebang for it and then have a minor in dentistry and maybe take another couple of years for that.

The future seems a bit scary, but I’m just going to take it a step at a time for now.

Ave Atque Vale.

Shadowhunter’s Rhyme: Color Scheme

Black for hunting through the night

For death and mourning the color’s white

Gold for a bride in her wedding gown

And red to call enchantment down.

White silk when our bodies burn,

Blue banners when the lost return.

Flame for the birth of a Nephilim,

And to wash away our sins.

Gray for knowledge best untold,

Bone for those who don’t grow old.

Saffron lights the victory march,

Green will mend our broken hearts.

Silver for the demon towers,

And bronze to summon wicked powers.

— Shadowhunter children’s rhyme

87   88

Aside

So there I was in church yesterday. The Nigerian Catholic Community was doing a joint mass with the American community of one of the churches I attend.

The choir was a combination of Nigerians and caucasians and so are the songs. And there I was dreading how people might have started insulting my people’s music or saying that it didn’t seem appropriate for church. One of the ladies just turned to me from the choir stand while listening to my mom sing and smiles at me. And I had an epiphany.

Many stereotypes still exist because we expect them to. Black people expect others to downgrade them in society and underestimate their capabilities. They expect to be looked down on, so that inevitably occurs. We expect these circumstances, so we don’t always try to do our best or to overcome racism or stereotyping. Looking at some of my black friends, I think that we’re trying our best to make ourselves what we want to be. But then I look at black kids from other schools: some are doing drugs, others are getting drunk, and others act deplorably.
It makes me so disappointed in us as a race that we teens are acting this way and many parents allow it, yet we get upset when policemen do their duty. Granted, there are some who step out of line and abuse the power given to them. However, many just wish to be upstanding citizens and enforce the law so that others will be, too. I don’t believe that all policemen should be terrorized for the mistakes of the few, especially since we ourselves are doing so little to avoid the incidents from occurring.

It’s parents’ jobs first and foremost to be policemen and to keep their children from committing acts that will get them in trouble with the law. It’s our job as a race to do everything right in order to create racial equality. It’s our job as a people to not complain over our little hardships when others in this same great country suffer more. It’s our jobs to work for what we get and to take responsibility for our mistakes in life. It is not a right to have what we have; it is a privalege and an honor that we must respect.

Before we talk about equality for the people we need to better the quality of the people.

Boredom is a disease.
Zaniness is the cure.

Stereotypes begin at Home

My Personality

-I’m a bookworm. Want to plan my presents for the next fifty years? Buy me two books (preferably romance and fantasy/paranormal/sci-fi) (and maybe a stuffed bear) and a bag of Hershey’s Cookies n’ Cream chocolate bites. That’s it.

-No one has realized this yet, but I’m a party girl. I like parties. No, not for the drinks. Or the food. Or the boys. I go to parties and dances to dance. Pure and simple.

-I’m really mellow. This could be associated with my bad memory, but I doubt it. I just have this sense of calm where I tell myself to just not think.

-I am who I am. How you interperet me is what you get. I won’t explain myself to anyone. Hence the multiple versions of myself.

-I’m not who you think I am. I hate when people make assumptions about who I am and what I’m like without consulting me or hearing my opinion. You think I’m selfish? You’re darn tootin’ I am, but if you ask for some of my beloved, coveted food, I’ll give you some. You think I’m lonely? Lonely people hate when they’re alone. I find it peaceful I just have a fear of being completely alone and death. They’re strong.

-I’m a contradictory mess. Some would say an oximoron. Others would say a paradox. I say it’s a lack of sleep and stunted emotional growth.

-I’m dark yet cheerful. It shows in my writing. I’m most neutral in stories because it’s not about me- it’s about the characters and my future readers.

-I hate awkward moments and fights. Some could say I’m passive. Haha, believe whatever you want, darling. Just wait until you try to touch my food….

Fears of a Lonely Child.

Clawing at my throat
Dangling by the chains that I swallowed to hide.
The fear.
Fear that everything bad thing I imagined will be true.
Fear that every amazing outcome is possible.
Fear of my dreams-my thoughts-my hopes.
So I take that fear
I hide it in a cupboard.
The cupboard is every fake laugh
Every fake smile
Every groan during the during the day
And every illusion during my insomnia nights.
My fears control me.
And that is the only thing that I’ll ever hate.

Good Future/Beautiful

Chisel at my Soul

[Song taken from: Lose my Soul by Toby Mac]

The paparazzi flashes,
I’m scared of the dark,
And that they think that it’s you,
But you’d never know.
But they don’t know that who you are is not what you do,
I am intelligent, but I’m so much more than a smart mind
True, we get it twisted when we peak at the charts,
Society warps me into a different person than I was before
Yo before we part from the start,

Where’s your heart?

You a pimp, hustler? Tell me what’s your title,
Your title holds no value to me. I make my own name and won’t answer to yours.
America has no more stars,
Those stars that I made wishes on, leaned on for strength,
Now we call them idols,
Now they’re tools to chisel away at me, the real me.
You sit idle,
I don’t want to be a bystander,
While we teach prosperity,
Watching while the morals our country was built on get brainwashed away,
The first thing to prosper should be inside of me.
I want to be my own hero.

Aside

Eyes of jaded sparkling gold;
A smile of melted silver;
Hair that reminds me of a breeze stirring the great oak;
A laugh that draws me in like a siren in the sea;
A presence like a best friend;
A crowd like a celebrity;
A personality like my fiction heroes—
You pull me to you like a magnet.
Yet when our eyes meet
I look away.
I speak to you in my thoughts.
Oh, how many times I’ve sighed when you call my name.

A Poem from the Heart