I’d always believed that if I shared blood with a vulture
Then surely I was just like them;
The ones that slip beneath the surface and devour you
Before you are dead
Because surely, if they can’t have patience
Then I must be a monster too.

But now that we know that true vultures don’t engage in torture
And feed their lust by feeding off the innocent
This is no circle of life, it is a cycle of hell.

True vultures eat the deceased, so they cannot be monsters
And you aren’t one either,
The mistakes that you made were paved by fate
And while they are stains already made,
It is not a adultery to your kind
To love the vultures for who they are,
and hating the monsters for what they’re not,
Nor loving yourself, for being a true vulture.

Something I’ve learned
Is that Sometimes I think I’m cursed, Because there’s this shadow that follows me. 

That most would consider an inevitability, but to me it’s a fiend, 

An enemy that would take my innocence away from me, similar to the destruction of Helene in my home of western NC

Death.
It all started with my mother, when I was just a kid,
My little worried eyes watched as she slowly got more sick Though we didn’t understand,
her death, unplanned, she knew when she’d go,
So she wrote us all letters to let us all know,

 … she loved us, And we finally knew when we saw her coffin on the stand,

She was an unlucky one.
this was just the beginning of our family being undone,
death our constant companion from day one.

Its unfortunate but most men in my family die young, 
I watched helplessly as my brother became one. 

Thinking he was invincible as he flirted with death,The somber silence of hearing as the phone rung,
a call we hoped never to get.

we are the ones always riding behind the hearse,

I had to sit by and watch my grandmother cry, wishing she wasn’t alive,as she had seen another of her angels die
.
Because I was left Helpless to bring back the dead,
wishing in my head, that it could of been me instead, 

like life the cycle only started over again. Things stayed tough, 

Because as if we hadn’t been through enough,
we were barely able to grieve for those we loved…

My grandmother hiding the family Bible, saying it was bad luck, all the names and death dates written in the front.

I was home four days from school
hoping to enjoy the summer sun,
When death …claimed another one.

This time it was my uncle,
my grandmother’s youngest son,
only in his fifties.
His heart was not up to snuff
he fell,
Because the woman with him,
left him without help, to die by himself.

For us to find where he’d lain those four days,
The smell still makes me sick to this day
a month later my aunt too passed away following my uncle to the grave.
Another fallen one, Another cursed son,
More fear of who will be the next to come.

Cursed through life to always live and worry who’s next to die.

I love the way you never give up. I love the way no matter how ruthless, mean, harsh kids were you never stopped being you. You never gave in and became a bully yourself. You always loved so hard with all your heart. You were always there for anyone and helped them to see the light out of the darkest times possible. You had such charisma and character always going above and beyond. You took the cards you were dealt and handled them.

I used to be embarrassed
of my sensitivity, my feelings, my heart
I was made to feel ashamed,
like my softness was a weakness
But what I didn’t realize then
was that those who shamed me
felt threatened by my vulnerability
and my capacity to feel
because that was a weakness of their own
Either because they could not understand
what it was like to feel so deeply
Or because they did not know how to respond
to something so profound
Or because they were unable to sit
in the discomfort of vulnerability
Whatever the reason,
it was always their problem-
not mine

My vulnerability, my capacity to feel, my softness,
and my unapologetic need
to express what’s in my heart
This is my strength,
my superpower,
my bulletproof vest
protecting me from regret
ensuring I always stay on the path
that’s intended for me

Sometimes it feels like a curse
to feel everything so deeply
and to be so painfully aware of it all
but I’ve learned to love this about myself
It’s rare, it makes me me
It lets me live my life in full color
I experience every single day to its full capacity
my senses always heightened
my heart sinking and swelling
countless times each day
I feel the entire spectrum of emotion
with burning intensity
all in one day
and I wouldn’t have it any other way
Anything else would feel
boring, dull, muted, incomplete
At least this way,
I get to feel and experience
every single thing
that life has in store for me

My heart, my sensitivity, my capacity to feel,
these things were never a weakness
I’ve just spent a lifetime surrounded
by people who did not understand my soul
but now I understand me
and that’s all I need