My Story By: Taris Kendricks

I felt like no one listened to me.
I felt like no cared about anything I had to say.
My feelings, my opinions, my great ideas.
I couldn’t open up.
And….
When I did, people still didn’t give a damn
I let the enemy get to me and I was trapped in a box all by my self.
I made the choice to listen to the enemy and went straight into isolation.
I kept going into that little box with all these thoughts in my mind.
Nobody wants me.
Nobody likes me.
Nobody would marry someone like me.
So I started fucking around and having a fucked up attitude.
That I somewhat still have now.

I.
I. 
I.

I hate these feelings the enemy keep trying to confuse me with.
It’s tares me apart.
I felt like this in Grammer school, high school..
Damn…. I even felt like this in college.
*Cough cough.
Sitting by myself at lunch tables like I have no friends.
Damn…
I even felt like this with family.

Hopping from house to house.
Separating myself from people who claim they “love me and support me”.
Damn, friends and ex’s did that to.

I.
I.
I.

I couldn’t take this shit I was feeling.
Some nights I would cry until I fell asleep.
Getting kicked out of other people houses because I wasn’t listening.
I mean damn, the enemy was really getting in my head.

Drinking, smoking, fucking.

Yeah, that worldly shit.
I was almost homeless with the rate I was going.
Swolling pills at night.
I still woke up in the morning.
Them pills ain’t do shit but, give me a headache.
Starving myself to the point it look like I was doing crack.
I was messed up.
I’m not even finished with my story yet.
I regret everyday not passing away.
Old friends telling me no don’t that.
You’re selfish, not thinking of all the people around you.
Hell, I was being treated wrong too.
By ex’s and friends.
If only man, people got to see the real true person I am instead of the person they want me to be.
I’m down to Earth and a True Woman of God.
That I now see.
I’m not like every one else.
I notice everything that goes on around me.
I’m not as slow and dumb as people think I am.
I’m smart as hell.
Smarter than a fifth grader I must say.
This is why I write poetry, to express myself.
People only want me to express myself in the way they want me to.
I can’t do that anymore.
I still feel these ways and while feeling these ways it leads me to depression and suicidal thoughts.
I’ve gotten better and learned that suicide is a sin.
I can’t go back to that.
That’s why I have God now.
That’s all I need.
He blessed me with a gift.
Which is poetry.
Poetry is a whole nother story.
I’m glad I took this route.
I might hit some dead ends.
But, I still pick up my pen.
Poetry is my life.
Poetry is my expression.

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