OMG YES JUST FIRST I WANNA THANK GOD AND THEN I WANNA THANK JESUS-- //shot

But in all seriousness, thank you so much to everyone who has read my words. I don't even care if there's a like or a repost; the fact that you take time out your day to read whatever I have to say gives me great joy and pleasure as an author. A 15 year old (I turn sixteen in like two weeks guys omg) amateur at that!

I've only been here for two months now, so I had no idea that things would escalate this quickly. There's been a lot of ups and downs since I've joined Prose, both on the website and in my life in general, but I'm still honored to be writing and entertaining everyone who comes across a repost of my words, likes something I wrote, responds to a comment, tags me, or just visits my profile. You guys are the best!

So, to celebrate this achievement and to challenge myself for the most part now that I'm succeeding more as an amateur writer, I'm going to start taking requests! I know, that sounds super dumb and cliche, but here me out.

A lot of Prosers may have things that they want to write or see written, but they can't write it themselves for whatever reason that's bothering them. So, as a way to keep my writing going and help me improve, y'all can leave requests of what you would like to see written down in the comments below this entry or you can hit me up over messages. I'm cool with either! I love everyone's unique ideas so this is a huge opportunity to get me to step out of my comfort zone and try different flavors of writing.

Thanks so much to everyone! Special thanks for @sandflea68 @jwelker76 @iseun1 (who won't be on as often due to irl stuff but congrats on graduating man!) @Tylasmith @JamesMByers @PhynneBelle and countless others that I can't remember at the top of my head that's supported me so much from the start!

Peace--

SelfTitled

People claim there are more black folks

In prison than white folks. They are not

Wrong. Black people get sentenced longer

Than white people for committing the same

Crime.

Racism is not dead.

It is rooted into our minds

By our court systems.

I blame no one but ourselves

For not doing our own

Research and believing the lies

Of the oppressors.

Promises should be

Exquisite wonders,

Rare marvels,

Precious bonds,

Special. 

Promises should be

Everlasting pacts,

Eternal vows,

Immortal links,

Indestructible.

Not something

For you to toss away

Like trash

As soon as I hand

It over. 

Not your

Mass-produced,

Meaningless words,

Oh-so-pretty but

Hollow inside.

Not a

Trivial tool

You can use to

Lure me in and then

Cut me open.

Not a

Bomb in a

Pleasant package.

Not a 

Knife in a

Beautiful bouquet.

Not a 

Poison in a 

Delicious dessert.

Not something

For you to

Trick me into

Opening,

Smelling,

Eating,

Only for you to

Tear 

Me 

Apart.

The woodwork squeaks

And out come the freaks

As be-ings......

Self expression is our right

Scratch that... our native state

Having said that.........

Don't be a cunt

And if you choose to express

your cuntimess

know that other cunts

may have a thing or two to say

Namaste.....cunts......

The cunt in me bows to the cunt in you....

you thought i was

tattered lace and

wilted flowers,

an easy fix of

stitches and sun

but i will take

the needle and

leave you the thread

to reopen wounds,

i will blister

my hands

to grasp the sun

and blind you

so you never think my

tattered lace and

wilted flowers

are an easy fix of

stitches and sun,

so you never think my

open wounds and

blistered hands

are the sinless scars of

purity and love,

so you always know i'm

a monster

in tattered lace, and

i will eat, i will eat

your tender heart.

it was destined to die

how could it not?

naked heart, left to

survive this cruel winter?

for the longest time

we lived by it's glow

we are frozen to thaw -

from summer’s kiss

and bask in remains

of warmth we once knew

be mine,

          valentine

your heart can't break in

formaldehyde

my specimen jar

on

the shelf overhead,

asleep in my bed

as you

sleep with the dead

i’ll be your

             ‘evermore’

my heart can't break if

it’s on the floor

your second choice

on

the tile below,

crushed under your toe

as my

blood starts to flow, so

be mine,

          valentine

your heart can’t break in

formaldehyde

my collection preserved

on

the shelf overhead,

asleep in my bed

as you

sleep with the dead.