The shadows of your words

cut deeply, perhaps as you intend.

And, though I bleed inside,

I refuse to let my blood show through.

Holding my head high, remembering

just who I am and what I am here for,

and who I am here for saves me.

Keeps that blood that you try to draw

from showing up, crimson red

against the black velvet of my skin.

I refuse to back down and be chopped up.

I knew who I was years ago,

and will not change that I for you.

You throw shadows at me,

shadows that try to cut and maim me

but you forget from whence I came.

The blood of warriors runs through these veins,

and no shadows can empty that part of me.

I stand strong, lifted by my reggae beat and

the realization that only I am responsible

for my happiness, my joy and my sanity.

I can never leave those in the hands of another.

Respect is a two-way street, and it must be earned.

I am strong enough, I have been strong enough

to fight shadows before…shadows of all shapes and sizes.

Yours will simply join the previously conquered ones

as I will stand firm and face you straight on.

Fighting shadows is never easy,

but I have done it before and I shall surely

do it again.

Bring it.