Nov(a) 2014.
She never felt appreciated
Tortured by too much responsibility
At too young an age,
But drugs and alcohol would alleviate it.
She told me life felt like a constant grinding of teeth…
Bad circumstances led to awful habits.
Opened up to her preaching grandaddy
And he called her a faggot…
He said she was better off an addict.
Never heard from him again.
Competing with her mama’s new mister
Wanted to go to college,
But who would take care of her little sister?
How could she go away
Knowing her hermana’s skin would
Become a human ashtray?
Percocet pills got too expensive,
started putting heroine in her veins
… who am I to criticize
how she deals with her pain?
Smart woman, could converse about everything
From reality shows to religion.
She would tell me her vision,
And all I had to do was listen.
Just wanted to feel special.
…knew she was,
but self doubt was the devil.
The game is fixed on every level.
Sister went missing
And she felt like the only one who missed her.
Found dead, tied and gagged in a Lincoln trunk.
No news story. The world dismissed her.
The thought of her own blood
Just the choking on her own blood…
I could see the suffering in her eyes
When she said she wanted to die…
And how selfish would it be for I
To try to keep her…
Fly, angel… fly…
Rest In Pleasure
Folks say suicide is a selfish act… But I believe it is selfish of us to keep people here who find life unbearable. To restrict them or make them feel guilty of the ONE thing they have control over… Their OWN lives… Truth is, nobody knows what is beyond this life for sure. We speculate, we debate, we just don’t like not knowing… But, we don’t know. I wish everyone could love this life and be treated right, but truth is, that just isn’t the case. Who am I to say how you deal with your pain or end your own suffering? Your life. Your life. Your life.
Peace.
-Nova Sankofa
Tortured by too much responsibility
At too young an age,
But drugs and alcohol would alleviate it.
She told me life felt like a constant grinding of teeth…
Bad circumstances led to awful habits.
Opened up to her preaching grandaddy
And he called her a faggot…
He said she was better off an addict.
Never heard from him again.
Competing with her mama’s new mister
Wanted to go to college,
But who would take care of her little sister?
How could she go away
Knowing her hermana’s skin would
Become a human ashtray?
Percocet pills got too expensive,
started putting heroine in her veins
… who am I to criticize
how she deals with her pain?
Smart woman, could converse about everything
From reality shows to religion.
She would tell me her vision,
And all I had to do was listen.
Just wanted to feel special.
…knew she was,
but self doubt was the devil.
The game is fixed on every level.
Sister went missing
And she felt like the only one who missed her.
Found dead, tied and gagged in a Lincoln trunk.
No news story. The world dismissed her.
The thought of her own blood
Just the choking on her own blood…
I could see the suffering in her eyes
When she said she wanted to die…
And how selfish would it be for I
To try to keep her…
Fly, angel… fly…
Rest In Pleasure
Folks say suicide is a selfish act… But I believe it is selfish of us to keep people here who find life unbearable. To restrict them or make them feel guilty of the ONE thing they have control over… Their OWN lives… Truth is, nobody knows what is beyond this life for sure. We speculate, we debate, we just don’t like not knowing… But, we don’t know. I wish everyone could love this life and be treated right, but truth is, that just isn’t the case. Who am I to say how you deal with your pain or end your own suffering? Your life. Your life. Your life.
Peace.
-Nova Sankofa
