as a young pup
i was told many things
some i wouldn’t understand
while others i would abhor

my guardian would try their best
to teach me how to behave,
there’s a right time and place
is what they constantly say

never run away
don’t bark at night
don’t eat this or that
never ever bite anyone

over the years i had grown,
not yet fully understanding
why i would do as i am told
i only wanted to make them happy

then came a mighty storm
with a deafening echo
and enough flash
to turn night into day

my guardian was not home
and i was terrified, all alone
the wind blasted open my door
and i felt the storm coming for me

in a panic i ran away
trying to escape this dreadful storm
yet nowhere i went felt safe
so i kept running further away

eventually i ran far enough
to no longer hear rumbling
yet now, i was completely lost
and couldn’t help but to bark for help

i smelled something approaching,
with relief i ran towards them
only to be greeted by snarls
and growls of impending doom

they told me to leave,
as this was not my home
and they have their own guardian
whom they love and adore

so i ran some more
but i had grown tired & hungry
and stopped to scrounge for scraps
any piece of food i could find

i picked up on a pungent smell
coming from a nearby ditch
and against all i have been taught
i scarfed down this half rotten corpse

it didn’t take long for me to be sick
my stomach would grumble from pain
and i had to lay down to rest
at least for a few hours until daylight

when i awoke from my sleep
i was too disoriented
to have proper judgement
for what i was about to do

a human was approaching me
with a handful of treats
but i did not trust them
so i growled and lunged at them

they ran off and i ate the treat
that was dropped on the floor
i tried to go back to sleep
but i didn’t get much of a chance

another human approached me
this time without a treat
but a very shiny stick
with a loop at the end

i snarled with every step taken
and i didn’t know what to watch out for
is the stick to be used against me
or is that just a distraction?

before i could realize what happened
there was something tugging at my neck
and i was bound to the shiny stick,
slowly being dragged away into a kennel

we rode to a depressing building
and i was taken inside to a cage
i figured this was it for me
as my neighbors would soon agree

they told me their stories as i did mine
one of them said they had a similar tale
and how they have been stuck here since
which only made me further more sad

now i finally know why
i should never run away
or why i shouldn’t bark at night
and especially not to eat everything

most important of all,
i know why i shouldn’t bite
because now i am held captive
and there is no escape from here

a few days passed and i have given up
on ever being able to see my friend again
my guardian truly was taking care of me
and i missed them and their ways

and that’s when it happened
i couldn’t believe it…
the cage door opened
and they were there

my guardian came to rescue me!
i was filled with such joy
i would never disobey again
not even during a storm

Dear Younger Me,

I see you. I see that ache you carry, the weight of feeling unseen and trapped. It feels so heavy, doesn’t it? You’re surrounded by people who should protect you, but instead, they make you feel small. A home that doesn’t feel safe, and it hurts in ways that can’t be spoken. I hear you. You feel silenced, hidden in a corner where no one truly hears you, lost between the expectations of others and with the sting of neglect.

Stolen innocence, the abuse that no one stops or acknowledges. But none of this is your fault.Those cutting words that make you doubt your worth, those looks that make you wonder if they’re right. Like maybe you really are just angry, bitter, and undeserving of love or peace. I know they call you a rotten apple and expect you to be grateful for the hurt they inherited and handed down. But they don’t see the wounds beneath, the pain that drives you to lash out, the scars of neglect, and the love that was withheld. They only see the shell and never the child inside that’s aching and unseen.

But I’m here to tell you. They’re wrong. You are so much more than their words, stronger than the brokenness they try to make you carry. You are not their mistakes, You are not bound by your parents mistakes and their past does not define your future. I know how lonely it feels, and I’m sorry it’s like this. I wish it could be different, but I need you to hold on.

I’m grateful you put down that bottle. In that moment of darkness, you chose hope over despair, strength over silence. Remember, surviving was an act of courage; you’re still here.

That anger you feel! That fire in your chest! It’s real, and it’s valid. But don’t let it consume you. Let it keep driving you. Let it remind you of all you’re worth, of the life you’re going to build that has nothing to do with their judgments. You’re the author of this story, not them. They don’t get to write who you are. Not the teachers, not the doubters, Not your parents, Not your grandmother or anyone who has tried to break you down.

Inside you, there’s a strength that nothing can extinguish. It’s there to push you through every dark day, to rise again even when it seems impossible. Each trial is adding to that strength, that courage, that unstoppable spirit they never expected. And just know that one day, you’ll be surrounded by people who truly see you, who understand the battles you’ve fought and celebrate you for every inch of progress.

You’ll walk across a stage at an HBCU, bold and unapologetic, knowing that every ounce of pain only fueled your rise. You’ll stand there as a powerful Black woman who didn’t let anyone else define her, who became everything they said she couldn’t. So keep going, little one. Feed that fire, let it guide you. Be bold. Be unstoppable. Speak up, no matter who tries to silence you, and don’t ever apologize for the woman you’re becoming.

One day, you’ll look back and know that every tear, every struggle, and every moment of anger was part of a journey to becoming unstoppable. And you’ll be so proud of the person you fought to become.

With love and pride,
The Strong Black Woman You’ll Become

Dear Younger Me,
When I was your age, I told myself I was afraid of the dark. I slept with Mom until an age some might find “too old,” but I never really liked being alone, so why force myself? Dance Academy would play, and I’d drift off beside her, feeling the comfort of my glasses slipping off my face as I dozed. Eventually, I got used to doing it on my own. I’d take off my glasses and watch TV until my eyes grew heavy. The images were always blurry, but that never mattered—it was the comfort, the sounds that lulled me to sleep.
As I got older, I realized it wasn’t the dark I feared, but the silence. I couldn’t just sit with my thoughts, so I played music each night, letting it fill the quiet until my mind faded into sleep.
When I turned 16, I wanted more space and moved into the basement. I was thrilled to set it up like my own little apartment. “Will you be able to sleep all the way down there alone?” Mom asked, a little worried. But quarantine had changed me. I had grown comfortable with myself and even welcomed the silence darkness could bring.
Weeks passed as we finished setting up my room. Once we put the bed in, I stayed there alone all night—but then I’d return to sleep between my mom’s and grandma’s rooms. “When are you moving down?” Grandma would ask, and I’d say, “I’m just waiting until I set it up exactly how I want.” To everyone else, it might have seemed like nerves, but I knew I’d get there.
And I was right. I finished setting up the room and began sleeping down there just fine. Occasionally, the shadows would deceive me, forming images that dissipated as the lights faded, but I eventually grew accustomed to this. I wasn’t afraid anymore.
At the age of 17, I discovered that I had Type 2 diabetes. Type 2. The explanation, “Your blood sugar is too high,” didn’t seem like something a “normal” 17-year-old should be dealing with, and it made me feel like I was at fault. You need to change your diet.” The news hit hard, and I retreated into myself, looking for anything that would distract my mind. 
That’s when I started reading—book after book, writing reviews, marking my favorite parts. I read so much that I decided to write my own story. I always heard that I was good at it, so it felt natural. I wrote as an escape, just letting the words flow without overthinking. 
I haven’t finished the book yet, but it has led me to a life I never expected but am grateful for. I want to be a writer because it’s something I can control. There was always something that made me feel powerless and afraid, but writing let me create worlds, characters, and stories that follow the rules I set. In a world where so much is unpredictable, writing felt like a steady ground beneath me. I decide how things begin, how they end, and everything that happens in between. So I wrote Darker in the Shadows for you, the girl who just wanted to not feel out of control—a story dedicated to the version of me who turned the darkness into a sanctuary, a place to grow and thrive.
With love, 
-A

Dear Savannah,

Greetings sweet, precious girl. I know you are tired, confused, hurt and alone, but I promise, it gets better with time. Eventually, you will learn that the sins of your mother are not yours to carry. I know it pains you to hear the screams coming from a closed bedroom door as your father is barraged with curse words, or the feel of the spit coming from her lips as she spewed profanities and insults in your sweet face as you feel the sting of the vacuum cleaner cord go across your mouth, busting a tooth in the process. I see you there, standing on a stool to make your brother and yourself macaroni and cheese to prevent the pang of hunger in your stomach. I know you wait by the door for your father to come home so you can feel the only sense of stability or security in your 8-year-old existence. I know you feel like time stood still when you saw your mother with a pistol to her head to play Russian roulette, even though you were too young to know what that “game” was. I am aware of the fear and hurt that your young heart endured as you witnessed your mother sitting upright on the middle of her bed, surrounded by the drugs that she abused spread all around her. You could feel your chest tighten and your eyes well up with big tears that rolled down your face as she raised the pistol to her head, pulling the trigger for the first time. The shrill of your scream that echoed through the hall of that disheveled home still echoes in your mind. Finally, you start feel relief, once your father pushed you and your brother to the side as he leapt in the room and tackled your mother to the ground. Five days she would be away. Despite all the hurt and terror and pain she afflicted on you and your brother, you can’t help but wail yourself to sleep, wondering if she was safe and cared for in that hospital. I just want you to know, beautiful, that you DO recover, only after your own struggles almost stand in the way of your own sanity. Your fear and own insecurities brought on by the trauma you endured at a young age will lead yourself down a dark, winding road of destruction, spearheaded by drugs, fueling a fire that would destroy everything in its wake. You will grow to have two children of your own. Children that you will eventually lose to the system due to your own poor decisions. You will hear the Judges honest words as she tells you that you will “never get any better, and you will NEVER have your kids again. “Despite all of that, you will eventually find God and get sober. During this time, you will find peace, like you have never felt. You will begin therapy, and learn that those horrible, unspeakable things that happened to you as a young child, do not have to define who you are today. One day, you will be able to look in the mirror and love the person that you see staring back at you. One day, you will tell your story to others in recovery, shining a light in their darkness. One day, you will work as a peer support specialist at a rehabilitation center for expecting mothers, guiding them with your own path of recovery and be a constant reminder to them, that sobriety is possible. You are going to thrive sweet girl, breaking out of the shell that once held you captive. Did I forget to mention to you, you young warrior, that you would sit in front of that same judge, 8 years later in the same chair, as she looks you dead in your eye and congratulates you on a job well done. You will hear her announce to the courtroom that you are in fact a fit mother, and before she knocks down the gavel, she declares that you once again have full custody of your children. You will sit in that chair and feel everything come full circle. You can now be the mother, sister, friend that God intended. You will glow and begin to enjoy the little things in your life. You are a warrior, my sweet girl, now go on out there and show the world!

Love,
Your healed self

Hello younger Glenn, as an adult, I think about the time you are having and all the exciting opportunities that have presented themselves or will be in the coming years. I know that you feel like life has been challenging at a young age and that you have tackled most of your problems, but I am here to tell you that plenty of challenges lie ahead that are difficult and some that are fun. I am proud of the man that you and I have become. A lot of that is thanks to our parents and the upbringing they sacrificed to provide for you and our brother, Michael.
To say that life gets easier would be a lie. Naturally, as you get older, you will have bigger decisions that have a larger impact on your life. The fun will be had with both family and friends but overcoming challenges will be looked upon with similar fondness.
Right now, you have a lot of thoughts that trouble you and cause anxiety. The expectations that you have for yourself and what type of person you would like to become are heavy and I sympathize thinking back to that time. Growing up is not easy and throughout the evolution of society, doctors have focused more on the anxiety that you feel right now. Struggling with thoughts that take up your attention for days and distract you from life is something that occurs daily for you, but I am here to provide you with some relief. As we got older, the intrusive thoughts that caused depression and anxiety have been controlled.
Every dream and goal that your thoughts deviated from, can be conquered and reached as you grow older with the help of family, friends, medicine, and doctors. Life was a constant struggle with battling OCD and focusing only on your thoughts. It is something that never goes away completely, but we have overcome the thoughts to live life more freely and pursue the dreams that should have dominated our minds instead of struggling with thoughts that brought us down at times.
The struggle was strong enough for me to get help from a professional who helped me develop the tools to battle with our struggles. The medicine was the final piece of the puzzle that allowed me to grow and become a baseball coach, a husband, and best of all, a father. The fears of not being worthy to be a husband and start a family are forgotten and the focus can be on your wonderful life.
Besides being a father, this was the biggest challenge of my life to this point, and it brings me to tears to tell you that help is on the way and that this is one challenge that we can beat. It is a challenge that has been won but continues with a bigger army behind us.

Dear Unsealers,
Happy 6th Birthday! Today is YOUR special day—one that will become a pivotal turning point in your life, over and over. There may be some words used in this letter that you don’t understand, but one day, they will all make sense. I am so proud to celebrate with you today, sweet girl. When you get home from school, Mom, Mamaw, and Papaw will have your favorite white birthday cake, topped with the sugary goodness of white icing and roses piped all around the cake’s edge.

After a celebration at home, the neighbors will invite you up to their house, so that they may also celebrate with you today. Papaw will walk you up to the neighbors’ front porch and tell you to have a good time. You’ll ring the doorbell, while searching in your head for the mask of excited anticipation.

The Dad, The Mom, and The four-year-old Son, will gather round and sing, “Happy Birthday,” as you settle in around their kitchen table. You’ll open gifts of strap-on roller skates and your first ever set of rainbow nail polish. After presents and cupcakes, The Dad will announce to you and The Son, that it’s time to go downstairs and play hide-n-seek. You’ll start to panic, and once again, the vomit will rise up in your throat. As your heartbeat quickens, you’ll announce before you go downstairs that you have to go to the bathroom. You’ll run into the bathroom, reach up on your tippy toes to lock the door, then run to the toilet, barely making it before you throw up both chocolate cupcake and the white cake you had eaten at Mamaw’s and Papaw’s. You’ll wipe off your mouth and stick it up under the sink faucet to get some water and swish out your mouth. With your little hand propped at the bathroom doorknob, you’ll breathe in and out, bracing and preparing for hide-n-seek.

The Son will hide first. The Dad will pick you up, slide his hand up your pretty blue birthday dress, and walk around pretending to find The Son. Next, it’ll be time for you and The Dad to hide. You know exactly where he will go…back in the corner behind the stack of musty quilts. It’s a place The Son won’t go, because The Dad has convinced him a monster lives back there with a bunch of spiders. Once again, your breathing quickens, and your hands start to sweat. The Dad will lie you down on your back, like so many times before, and you’ll begin to whimper.

You’ll want it to be over quickly, so you will do everything The Dad says. With each time you play hide-n-seek, you will wonder what’s wrong with you that The Dad does unspeakable things to you. After it’s over, The Dad will throw a ball out from the hell hiding place, in order to give The Son validation that indeed you both are hiding back in the bowels of the house.

The house phone will ring, and The Mom will yell down the steps that Mamaw called and it’s time to go home. The Dad will pick up and carry The Son, while he opens the basement door to let you out. You’ll see Papaw at the end of the driveway, run and jump in his arms, burying your face into his neck, and crying. Papaw will ask you what’s wrong, but you’ll remember at each of the dirty hide-n-seeks, that The Dad tells you if you tell anyone what happens back in that monster corner, then he will use his police gun to hurt Papaw.

The trauma of what occurs in the neighbor’s basement will go on for some time. But you will continue to grow stronger and eventually use your voice loudly and say, “NO MORE!” Loving guy relationships will be complicated for the next 20 years. There will be many times when you will think you can’t go on, and that no one will ever love you based on your childhood. You will prevail and find love. You will fight with every fiber in your body to climb out of the trauma hole caused by one man, who should have been protecting you. Always remember it is not your fault, sweet girl.

There will be many doctor and nurse professionals that will come in and out of your life. Even though it will be hard, please embrace them. They will help you achieve the best version of yourself. Through these professionals, you will learn the monster in that dark, dingy basement was The Dad, and the spiders were his hands. You will also learn that Papaw will be your lifelong savior, and your love for him will serve as your guiding beacon for the rest of your life.

Prison
Peculiar place to prelude a poem
Puts people in position
gets your attention, makes you sit, down shut up, read along or listen
Our intuition associates it with pain
Prison paints a picture of perps in pain put plainly in the pen
Pens used as pockets of positivity in efforts of peace and objection of further penalties
an agonizing assignment
punishment pushes people furthest with
Solitary confinement
Did you know this is considered torture? Humans require social contact. Especially if you want them to interact with human beings again with the ability to react in a way that’s not over
If you want them to shy away from addictive addictions and stay sober
Isolation invites issues
mental, physical & psychologically
the only thing just as lethal might be a family tree
When the trunk dies off, so the the branches break free, it all falls to the ground and there is blood on the leaves
the only fruit produced has no choice but to be strange
In exchange for the lack of knowledge & loss of history except the straps on the boots
outside of slavery & bravery , no recollection of roots
Relationships that are real
When everyone dies off, there’s no big mama, no meals, no feels
But it feels lonely, isolated
That’s how people be dating they cousin without even knowing they related
I didn’t grow up with the fortunate concept of a big family
Was kind of a lonely kid
Guess it depends on how you look at it
I was good at making friends
Granny taught me young, she would take me to the park
Tell me she wouldn’t always be here, so if I wanted people, ‘time to start’
& then she’d hide, which used to piss me off at first but I’d be fine
Force me to meet people on the spot
Spark socialization up my spine, palms sweaty though I’m not hot
I’m heated those humans ain’t hail from my home
But my grandma was right, cause when she was gone
I Ain’t find solitude so soothing
When I was alone too long I felt like I was losing
So I was choosing to chase
Family members, friends, love even when love laughed in my face
In this case, anything to not be alone
Used to be my biggest fear, it was uncontrollable
Clogging up the prayer line asking why was I born unloveable?
Happenstance wasn’t happy
But then something good happened
I learned to love just chilling with myself , I really had to tap in
I accomplished all my goals, the hero in me had to zap in
Little me see big me, she on her feet yelling, clapping
Rapping along, her little fingers she be snappin
Singing soul songs cause this poetry be a soliloquy
Full of empathy, & sympathy
Can’t control the things outside of me from imprisoned in my mind to isolation that surrounded me
Learning to let go, forgive & chill all by myself is new this year
But younger me would be so proud I found my freedom in my fear

Like they always say, “You will forget you chose this.”
You will wander far just to go search for yourself again.
But it’s this exploration that will reinvigorate you.

You will exist again.
The blur will clear slowly, and subtly you will start to notice things again.
Beauty will return to your world in the simplest ways at first.
Then, you will train your mind to seek out the complex.

Of course, hindsight will be 20/20—
Once you have cleared a path through the bramble, you will easily turn around and look back to where you came from with clarity.

I know your world is trying to convince you otherwise, but this was not your fault.
Your only responsibility was to grow up, and that’s what you did; that was ALL you did.
You will understand morality and love more than the adults in your life, but this will also never be your fault.
You will feel this truth deep down inside your core, even when the rest of your being wants to extinguish that belief.

You are charismatic, creative, intelligent, magnetic, unique, and so much more. Who wouldn’t fall in love with all of that? This will also never be your fault, but they will try to blame you anyway.
You will try to hide all of these beautiful things because you will believe you are the source of their sin.

One day, you will offer yourself the grace they forced you to give him.
You will see the truth of what he tried to take from you, rather than the sainthood he tried to wear.
For now, you will only feel it—a quiet unease, a whisper of your truth waiting to be heard.

When you want to quit because the emptiness is too much to bear, look inward, and you will feel a longing, like a rogue thread you can’t quite locate—let that be your guide.

Slowly, you will find yourself and bury all of your old beliefs.
Then, one day, you will grow the most breathtaking flowers from these experiences and live in pure awe of their magnificent blooms.

Hey there, you, or should I say me?

Remember how cripplingly shy you once were? Can you recall those times where you’d purposely leave to use the bathroom at a restaurant so someone else in the family would have to handle your order?

I can still see you standing in a McDonald’s bathroom with the door cracked, peering out , making sure your brother had ordered for both of you before coming back out. I can still imagine that beet red face after a teacher called on you to answer in school. I can still feel the warmth and rush of blood filling out those cheeks when your turn came to share. I can still taste the countless words that you swallowed because that seemed easier than sharing.

And yet, I also remember a young boy who had not even the slightest problem with sharing things loudly and proudly at the dinner table. A youngster who would crack jokes and imitate Johnny Bravo’s famous “Flex the pecs” move at home. I seem to recall that at times, despite their best efforts, your family could not keep you from sharing your voice, your jokes, your energy.

You were seemingly two different people.

The truth, though, was you didn’t believe in yourself unconditionally. When you were at home, surrounded by family, you felt safe(r) to let your freak flag fly, to let your authentic self forth, and to share your every thought- be they silly, serious, or some combo of the two.

I’m not sure that you ever thought about that or consciously grasped that it was a lack of true self-love that created this discrepancy. I am sure, however, that you seemed to most of the world to be a shy guy. Not that you thought of this a bad thing- it was what it was. You had your tribe with whom trust was strong enough to drop the protective shy façade and engage.

And yet, there were times, talking to a cute girl (you married Carmella by the way!) or an adult you admired, that you wished to break through that fragile facade, but it seemed to be almost a force of habit- the demure tone, the fumbling for words, the downcast eyes automatically engaged in certain situations. As did the pools of nervous sweat.

Well, my young friend, I’m here to tell you, you’ve broken through those instincts, although the sweat is still real (sorry kid!). You’ve made the change. You’ve spoken at graduations, instructed thousands of kids, shared your voice through poetry, rap, and song with complete strangers no less. And just how did this happen?

Finding an unconditional love for yourself. Accepting who you are and realizing that you’re no better or worse than anybody. You are you, and you deserve to own that as much as possible. Does this mean those old habits don’t still creep in? Does this mean you handle each interaction with consciousness and confidence? Not yet, my young friend, but I promise you, I’m working each and every day to reach that mountain peak. When we get there, my what a view we’ll have. And if we never do, well, I can take comfort in knowing that I’m walking forward with purpose, and that I’m carrying you with me with each step I take.

A Poem For Future Me

Would I change my past, if given the chance?

What would happen if I took different steps in this dance?

Lord knows I’ve stumbled, bumbled, and fallen face first like a fool.

Lord knows I’ve struggled to utilize properly each trick and tool.

Especially those of used for speaking with strength,

And those for engaging with power to go any length,

And when cashing the checks I should take to the bank.

I now know better, got more fuel in my tank,

But I’m still on the journey of becoming, and if I may be frank,

I think part of overcoming a challenge is less about leaving it behind,

But rather making a peaceful relationship with it in your mind.

The shy guy I was, and the confident me, they are intertwined.

One’s not to be praised and the other maligned,

Rather, I must remember to both to be kind.

Not just kind as in nice, but the other meaning too,

To recognize that every little part of me is a kind of you.

Thus, I must speak, yes, to overcome this hard task,

But I must also learn to listen and ask.

Silence is valuable, and it speaks just as loud,

As the rapper with the microphone, moving a crowd.

The key here for me is to steer clear of fear,

That way I can drive in the highest of gears.

Thank you for being you, and for helping me to become me,

Love always,
Paul