My Prison

My age is a desolate, echoing prison,

People don’t believe me, when I try to stand tall.

My birth date is the cold iron shackles, 

Binding me to the hard, damp wall.

I can’t lift my shaking hands,

My voice can not be heard.

Try to speak to the dark stones of the floor,

But no one hears a single word. 

All I have is this dull pencil,

But they refuse to see what I draw.

Try to show them,

But they turn away, gloze over it all.

My age is just a number, 

My birthday is just a day.

My skin is just a shade,

My initials, just a name. 

My voice is just a pitch, 

My height is just a size, 

But a judging world is what I see,

With these “too normal,” brown eyes.

In this prison I stubbornly refuse to stay,

But with the power of my voice, I’m set free.

I release my friends, for they do not judge,

The aspirations of the young me

Light blinding our eyes as we step out the heavy doors.

Hands up to shield our eyes from the bright sun.

Green grass spreads over the hills as far as eye can see,

Encouragement fills our spirit, we want to tell everyone.

Saddle our ponies and horses,

A bumpy ride across the hillside to the various towns,

We stand up on the crest of the cliff, as we proclaim our progressive thoughts,

Some will listen, but most will move on with their face down.

We warn them of the coming danger, we share our truths,

Although most will not care.

But with every heart we touch with our cause,

One more will look up with a fixated stare.

As free individuals with a precious voice,

We declare to the world our news!

With our united body of small speakers and far bigger dreams,

Ears will open, blind eyes will see, and the world will change much more soon.


You don’t have to be a superhero,

Chest puffed out and in a battle stance,

To be a hero.

You don’t have to be a scientist,

Mixing beakers and compounding formulas,

To be your own kind of genius. 

You don’t have to be a model,

Smothered in makeup and photo edited to the fullest extent,

To be your own kind of beautiful.

You don’t have to be an Olympic athlete,

Swimming long strokes in the pool and running at the speed of light,

To be your own kind of powerful.

You don’t have to be a wrestler,

Flipping people over and victoriously penning them to the ground,

To be your own kind of strong.

You don’t have to have money,

Piled up in bags in a mansion of a house,

To  be your own kind of rich.

You don’t have to a well-known activist,

Famous on socials and reaching out to the ears of the world,

To have your own influential voice.

Every community, age, and race is important,

From the homeless person under the bridge to the authorities of our nation,

Everyone has worth. You have worth.

A Friend

Sometimes I need a friend,

To give me a hearty squeeze and coax me it will all work out.

Sometimes I need a friend,

To call me on the phone just to tell me that they care about me.

Sometimes I need a friend, 

To tell me that they’re struggling the same way I am.

Sometimes I need a friend, 

To just be a friend.


Have you ever been pressed against a cold stone wall?

Like it’s you against the world,

Your heart that was once filled with peace is shriveled to a raisin.

You feel like it’s all your fault, guilt is a lump in your throat.

Everyone is burning their eyes into you. 

Your face simmers in shame.

And cool tears sooth the pain on the outside,

But your heart still won’t balloon out again.

Every day is a struggle to get out of bed,

Hoping that something miraculous will happen and your burden will be lifted.

Feeling sorrow press on your heavy chest, 

Making a few more drops of tears fall.

And then something miraculous does happen. 

Forgiveness comes when no one expects it.

It shines light on your wall, 

Causing you to have the energy to arise out of the hole you have dug.

Causing you to get up and realize that you have been forgiven. 

You are forgiven.