The shadows of your words
cut deeply, perhaps as you intend.
And, though I bleed inside,
I refuse to let my blood show through.
Holding my head high, remembering
just who I am and what I am here for,
and who I am here for saves me.
Keeps that blood that you try to draw
from showing up, crimson red
against the black velvet of my skin.
I refuse to back down and be chopped up.
I knew who I was years ago,
and will not change that I for you.
You throw shadows at me,
shadows that try to cut and maim me
but you forget from whence I came.
The blood of warriors runs through these veins,
and no shadows can empty that part of me.
I stand strong, lifted by my reggae beat and
the realization that only I am responsible
for my happiness, my joy and my sanity.
I can never leave those in the hands of another.
Respect is a two-way street, and it must be earned.
I am strong enough, I have been strong enough
to fight shadows before…shadows of all shapes and sizes.
Yours will simply join the previously conquered ones
as I will stand firm and face you straight on.
Fighting shadows is never easy,
but I have done it before and I shall surely
do it again.