Enough! Poem by Blessing Kalamatila

I've heard a lot of your myths,
heeded enough to your advice,
sick and tired of you ever being shrewd.
I've had enough!
So, I won't let you have it your way.
I am done giving attention to what you constantly have to say.
Enough of all the rules in Mom's house too,
-so to make mine, I guess I have to find a place to stay.

I've had enough of my stupidity;
it's time to perceive the world from a matured lens if the objective is to change in this new season.
Enough of this timidity;
I've got to remain bold amidst the voices that squeal 'I can't' for all the wrong reasons.

I'm exhausted from all of this,
had enough of this ignorant state of bliss.
I have to leave all my insecurities behind;
specifically that one time a girl told me that I have small lips when she gave my first kiss.
I have to free all the grudges
that I no longer have to hold;
like a clenched fist.

This is it,
I mean enough of this primordial movement we now embrace;
a hurtful past needs self-improvement but we'd rather inflict pain on others and for some reason
it's fun to watch them encounter that same trauma which is sad,
because self-worth isn't assumed by
how many people's feelings one hurts.

It's time to take a step back and navigate this world with facts and not feelings,
as opposed to how it was in the past
see in the beginning young couples loved with trust, and loyalty
like they took an oath,
when family and friends meant everything but now we have to be cautious of them both.
When women didn't have time to excite their options
and Men didn't have to function more on their emotions.

So Enough of all the lust we confuse for love;
because one instructs care
and the other is so unfair mainly to the one giving the most effort while the other only goes behind their back and wants to compare which lover is better.
In the end,
the Dreams of being good spouses are becoming nightmares or bend.

I am dead tired of all of it.
the stress that comes with caring for someone that won't reciprocate that energy.
So, at the end of this poem,
watch me drive past your questions as I make my way to the grave with the casket of the old me in a hearse and after I recite this elegy, in reverse,
then put to rest the boy in me who once shared in your sentiments.

Listen! while others may think of this as suicide,
The Man in me calls it the resurrection of my truth.
So take with you your assumptions and set of laws,
because far too long I have wasted my youth and it hurts knowing that all my life;
I've submitted to a standard, society sets.