My Sister, The Overcomer
Cut the beat. I don’t want to hear the rhythmic beatboxing sounds drowning out the specificities of life’s master lyricist detailing the daunting and troublesome noise that seemingly drowns out the good shit. We need to take heed to factual data and make definite decisions that enhance the outcome of our lives. I am simply exhausted by the wounds created by imbeciles who could not manage to allow others complete autonomy over their own body and mind.
“Oh hell no.”
“Not this again.”
Oh, hell yes, and shut up!
Allow me to elaborate on the remnants of symphonic beat that was playing in the background of your head before it went silent.
The lyrical assassin mastering her words to only craft poetic righteousness for those who have been silenced by the unjustification of the hostility and rage that pours from the oppressors. Not the oppressors that literally have lashed lacerations into the flesh of those before me, but those very tyrants that stampede this domain and dare to pronounce that it is their way or no way. Please! Please! Oh my gosh, spare me all of my waking moments from the self-proclaimed authoritarians. You have no claim over this dominion or the next and we’re just waiting for you to sit down, but after a while I will have no other choice but to sit you down.
My sister in strength, in resilience, in love, and passion - just to name a few - this is your time to emancipate and disentangle yourself from the twisted engineered facts that have been spoon fed to you on repeat since your inception. You are not who they say you are and you are becoming more than they could have ever envisioned.
They cannot love you because they are operating from a place of despair and brokenness.
I regret to inform you that the apology you seek will never come and the ownership of their actions will remain void. However, please allow me to send my sincerest apologies for the broken hearts, the invalidated feelings, the late nights, the cold touches, the heated arguments, the slashing words across your soul, the gut wrenching lies in the pit of you, and most of all - the instances we dare not speak of.
My sister, my girl, my love - you are not grimy, or soiled, or stained. You are not dirty nor contaminated nor unsanitary.
The adversity you endure is merely molding you into the majestic being you are. The sovereign Queen always has the last say throughout her reign. You did not come this far just to come this far. There is a dwelling place of peace within you and you must command your rightful place at your throne.
Huh, deep breath, deep breath. Remember to exhale.
You take those bricks and stones thrown at you. You take those accusations, those stares, those whispers, those screenshots, those daggering words with no substance. You take those burdens placed on you, those lies and fabricated stories, and the pain. You. You take all of the turmoil and agonizing, soul-crushing moments that were sent to annihilate you, and you stand.
It becomes grueling to know those meant to love you hate you the most merely because you speak the truth that dwells within you. My girl, my sister, my love, my equally yoked friend - you are not alone and don’t you dare for a moment believe that you are in solitude.
You are an overcomer, we are overcomers.
Okay, run that shit D.J.
