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CAN YOU WALK WITH HER?

Can you? Will you?

By Jasmine WilderPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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Come to me and tell me that you want to walk the shoes I have been in. Come to me and tell me that you could go through the fights that didn’t agree to your welcome and won. Tell what is it you been through…cause to me it looks like everything has been handed to you. Break it down to me what you had to fight for. Tell me if you had to hang on to dear life, tell me if you’re here in this life all alone, facing with the cruel people that is suppose to be there for you_ how many of them left you? How many of them turned around and gave you their ass to kiss when you need them most? Tell me who left you here…to wonder what’s your purpose…and why do you remain?

She sits there sometimes crying to herself thinking bout the time she could of die at the aged of two cause she’s been put in a plastic bag and stuffed under the bed. The days and nights she tries to come up with the answers of to “who are mommy and daddy”, “what did I do to be here”, “who is it that I should trust”, and “why am I still here?” She walks with her back as straight as a ruler and observes all the things people finds weird. She asks herself why is she put in the places that she’s in? Why is she around those who excuses her and around those that don’t understand her?

She sits there and break down the nights that she had left out the house and walked all over Brooklyn alone, feeling dirty, hungry, and hopeless. The times that she has been asked “how much” and how she’s been grabbed and almost stuffed in the back of a car. She sits there explaining how she has trained her body to be able to remain high on energy when she hasn’t eaten for several days. She sits and explains some of the bruises she carries and the abuse she’s been through. Looking around trying to see who’s nodding their head as if their saying “yes… I’ve been there, I understand, I know that route” she realize once again she’s alone. She starts again with a story that has no way of explaining it’s self.

Think about having to ride on the train for days after a time not being able to use the bathroom, stomach hitting your back and feeling like a useless string. Imagine being so weak that you can’t fight for yourself from being pulled inside of the tunnel, having to use every lil’ bit of you to open your mouth and bite as if you don’t know what the taste of food is. Vision yourself being slapped around by a complete stranger and not being able to move, to open your mouth and scream for help. See yourself dieing and no one not even realizing it… Picture yourself being “missing” when you’re really dead. Consider yourself being the body that is never found, but the one dead with out it being known.

It isn’t much anyone in the crowd could say once she starts telling the pain and struggles she has went through and still is. They look around astonished to how they could judge her on what they think they know about her or what they think they see a pound her. Some say that they would have never thought that she would have gone through much with the way she carries herself and by the way she acts. Now they have knowledge of just some of the things she has been through, so tell me if you could of survived just the brief of what she has gone through. Would you want to have to live life everyday knowing these things that walk with you and your shadow, the dark thing that sleeps with you at night. Tell me would you be the inspired writer that she is today? Tell me would you be able to stand as strong as she is, tell me would you be able to carry the extra weight she has? So do her this favor and don’t try to tell her about herself until you know the depths of it.

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About the Creator

Jasmine Wilder

I am greatly inspired by the likes of Eric Jerome Dickey, Tony B. Morrison and Carl Webber to name a few. I am a bit raunchy and hopefully in your opinion detailed. I hope you enjoy what you read. Happy reading.

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