u/Dense-Library7097

You say you love me, but do you really?
Love is more than lending me your jacket when it gets chilly.
Love knows no bounds; it should be given freely.
I shouldn’t have to jump through hoops to be loved easily.

You say you care, but you don’t give my words meaning,
When I speak, your words cut—and they feel demeaning.

Real communication feels like a language we don’t speak,
I feel like an old faucet that’s slowly sprung a leak.

You hear me, but only when it suits you,
I’m not fixed until you’ve had enough of the truth—
And then all I do is spew.

You say you love me, but do you really?
Or is it more about my possibility…

written by Lillyana Little

You say you love me, but do you really?
Love is more than lending me your jacket when it gets chilly.
Love knows no bounds; it should be given freely.
I shouldn’t have to jump through hoops to be loved easily.

You say you care, but you don’t give my words meaning,
When I speak, your words cut—and they feel demeaning.

Real communication feels like a language we don’t speak,
I feel like an old faucet that’s slowly sprung a leak.

You hear me, but only when it suits you,
I’m not fixed until you’ve had enough of the truth—
And then all I do is spew.

You say you love me, but do you really?
Or is it more about my possibility…

written by Lillyana Little

“Blank page, so much potential,”

the demons chant with the devil.

“Winning over their souls is essential,

we need to use them as our vessel.”

“Blank page, there is beauty in the flawed,”

the angels roar while praising God.

“I know the path ahead isn’t an easy one to trod.

I’ve seen the battles you’ve fought—scratched, clawed, and gnawed.”

The soul meets God face to face.

The devil’s there, making accusations and pointing blame.

But Jesus stands on defense.

He says, “I already took your place.”

written by Lillyana Little

“Stay strong—survival of the fittest,” they say.

But something about it always rubs me the wrong way.

So many unspoken thoughts of death and decay,

yet they put on a mask and pretend everything’s okay.

“Don’t let it build up—you should’ve gotten therapy,” they say.

When you feel the burning inside, black and white fades to grey.

When you lash out, they treat you like a mangled stray.

Survival of the fittest… or so they say.

written by Lillyana Little

17, she had fallen ill.

Mocked by them for the thrill.

Their hollow hearts met hers in a standstill.

Words like arrows aimed to kill.

Never expected she’d take those pills.

Medical neglect of a minor—

I couldn’t have said it finer.

It didn’t stop once she grew older.

Their hearts grew colder and colder.

And instead of lending their own child a shoulder,

they let her pain grow bolder.

So, she wrote their names and closed the folder.

written by Lillyana Little

I do not understand why I cannot take up space.

I understand I'm expected to be eloquent, always filled with grace.

Perfectly positioned hair and makeup to cover up my face.

But if anything—anything—is out of place...

I'm just something to be shoved back into your crawlspace.

I do not understand why I cannot take up space...

I do not understand why I cannot take up room.

Only if you let me grow, if you let me bloom.

Something you wouldn't just push aside with a broom.

Let a woman feel, let a woman fume.

I do not understand why I cannot take up room...

Written by Lillyana Little

You never gave the time of day.

I still stayed—I stay, I’ll stay.

I couldn’t ever walk away.

Be brave, so brave—I’m brave.

I saw the truth I couldn’t face.

I felt wrongs I couldn’t place.

This is not the time for grace.

No place for you inside my space.

A fucked mind, an ugly heart.

I found my way out of the dark.

Trauma painted on me like it’s art.

I never let it take my spark.

You never gave the time of day.

I still stayed—I stayed, I won’t stay.

I finally learned to walk away.

Be brave, so brave—I’m brave.

written by Lillyana Little

Empty shells—no one’s awake.

Distracted by division—while they’re throwin’ babies in the lake.

Forget about the future, what about the present?

While we’re arguin’ about race—who’ll impeach the president?

Black vs. white—red vs. blue.

This about division—if I believe different, I’m supposed to hate you.

The clock’s ticking—or maybe it’s broken.

Watching the news—we go rigid, we stay frozen.

Every second we stay quiet—there’s another prayin’ and hopin’.

Waiting for them to tell us this is all a big joke and—

we can go back to livin’ like beforehand.

But we must never go back to the way it was before.

It’s our job to protect our Constitution.

Come after it—it means war.

Unity = rebellion, rebellion = change.

How do we expect to make a difference if we all remain the same?

Written by Lillyana Little

Broken body, I'm what's left.

Weight of their actions left unaddressed.

Feel that shit deep in my chest.

I am done taking their stupid test.

The old me, dead and gone.

Realizing I was just another pawn.

In the end, I knew they were wrong.

I don't know why I played along.

I am not who you think I am,

and I really couldn't give a damn.

Fitting in your box feels like a scam.

A human being, not a hologram.

Broken body—I'm still here.

I am more than I appear...

written by Lillyana Little