Paint my pain…
in black… and white.
No filters.
No edits.
Just me…
and life.
They don’t see the battle.
Only the bruises.
Only the silence.
Never the fight.
I been screaming through verses
while smiling with wounds.
Mama held my hand one night
she whispered,
“Be strong…”
but how can strength grow
in soil watered with tears?
I walk through shadows
with my head held high.
Not because I’m fearless…
but because fear
stopped scaring me
a long time ago.
See…
they want to paint my world in color
but I see truth
in black and white.
The contrast.
The clarity.
The cold.
The real.
My dreams too big
for these small minds.
My heart?
Still healing.
But still open.
Still fighting.
Still writing.
They say
“Don’t be too loud,
don’t be too proud.”
But how can I dim
what was born from storms?
Every verse is a wound I healed.
Every rhyme,
a prayer I whispered
when nobody else was listening.
So no,
I don’t need color.
I don’t need fancy.
Just give me truth.
Give me raw.
Give me…
Black and white.
And when I’m gone…
don’t remember me for how I smiled
remember me
for how I survived.
For how I bled
and built bridges
with my own bones.
Black and white.
No shame.
No mask.
Just me.
And my flame.
-Therawvisions
IG:Therawvisions
