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Untitled Poem....

I'm Life wasted on stress, anger, disgust, and disappointments.

Finger licking my glass,

with my own self regrets,

Constantly thinking that this can't be it for me, For us and that our lives ain't over yet.

See, I wanna sober up so badly,

Go from stumbling in depression to walking straight lines while madly happy.

Not giving my babies what they never had, but

things I never learned because I was entrapped in my own catastrophes.

I wanna break these generational curses like I break my back for the man;

Paying me less than what my God says I'm worth,

Financially burying me more rapidly than quicksand.

I'm back and forth indecisively, battling inside of me if I'm worth being engulfed int eh same love that I give.

On the right are my angels and on the left, my demons, simultaneously begging me to just live. Both symbolizing the ups and downs of the 9 lives I've already lived

Is it self-centered of me to need to nurture the masses of those

created by me and those who are related to me and only want their affection in return?

A question that plagues my mental and stings my eyes with its flames of truth and burn.

I need more than what this current life presently possesses for me.

I wanna remain humble but I pray to God to make me and mold me into who the world will soon know me to be.

Old Mother Hubbard ain't got SHIT ON ME!!

Parenting 11 children on the backs of exhaustion and fear,

I am more courageous then what any doubt ever presented in my tears...


A name I've cried and answered to.


A title that the courts are making taboo,

One defined as not receiving enough credit because although we eat them,

sleep them,

breathe them,

and birth them, loving them is what we're supposed to do.

So I beg of you...

Release me from this prison of judgment and uncertainty,

Release me from society's statistics of what I can make of myself and them or who they'll try to repaint my picture in being

I can't take any more raw violations of forced entries into my emotions,

Used like cheap, hoarded toilet paper, I need more devotion.

If not for only being me think of it as preserving of my quality.

I have already done the math and am apart of the equation reconfigured

They instilled their additions in me, I multiplied and 7 lives I delivered.

Subtract one angel that equals to my pain. Regrouping that analysis and providing a thesis

as to why I go so hard and cherish my name.

I'm not completely sober, but I'm partly intoxicated

Dancing in my purpose with my glass in hand, confusingly inebriated.

Feeling the dark creeping up on me and consoling me like that old lonely friend.

Searching all sides of my corner realizing, here again, I stand

This time, I AM NOT alone

This time, I AM NOT afraid

This time, I WILL NOT cry.

This time, I purposely aim too high.

Overwhelmed, out of order, and sometimes drowning with the overflowing of my cup,

Just when I need it all to stop, only for a moment of silence, the whispers of my children and my ancestors are in my ears...DON'T YOU DARE, NEVER GIVE UP!!

-------Micaela "Cae" Thomas

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