Each day I feel how my story was already written
black ink etched into crumbled paper
left scars embedded, deep underneath
like destiny speaks to me, so effortlessly
Hard to ignore it; the spotlights
Searing into my skin
Artery and nerve exposure
It hurts to be human
And embody my soul and spirit
Is no easy feat.

But no one cares to discuss
The hurt and distrust
From being wounded and harmed
Violated and subjugated
But choosing to love anyway.

Within love,
There is sacrifice
But sacrifice can turn sour
Taken and devoured
Eaten for their next meal
While you suffer and cower
Pick yourself up and regenerate.

Learn their ways
Look through lies and deceit
Beyond the mind games
Find compassion anyway
For yourself and the other
As you’ll leave with clarity, serenity
And hope that they’ll change

Just plot point in each narrative
A tale of two destinies that depart
Sacred in security unlike the others

As I age, these muscles thicken,
In some areas, my heart has weakened
But each day, I can’t help but choose love
As if the black ink has dried up
And my story was already written