Two way glass 

Standing on the outside looking in 

Or am I looking out 

It’s hard to tell

The person on the other side 

She looks just like me 

There’s no way I’m looking in a mirror

This has to be a two way glass 

That stranger can’t be me

She has lost touch with the world 

She seems lost without a cause

No that’s not me 

Or should I say it use to be 


The him I thought I knew

Never did she think the man she loved would be the man who was hired to kill her she had spent so many years hiding from a random man with no name or face. She knew the man had been paid millions to take her out, yet she had no clue who he was or what he looked like. The Ferrari stopped and the tinted window opened to reveal her husband. She could see death in his eyes. He stood in front of her, his voice had never sounded so cold. He pushed her into the backseat of the car. He drove for hours coming to a stop at the beach house they had once called home. The house wasn’t the same to her anymore. He grabbed her by her hair and pushed her into to the front seat. She had no idea what was about to happen. He tied her to the steering wheel; only then did she notice the car was facing the ocean. Now here she was praying someone would find her in time or death would come too soon. Just as the car was about to broke through the water her hand came free. Did he know he hadn’t tied them right or was this her chance for freedom? Catching her breath she felt for the lock in the dark. She let him think he had won. But He didn’t understand what he’d done to her, but he would by the time she was finished. He would know pain.

I wanna see…

She opened her eyes
only to find 
that there she stood
in the midst of a crowd
Lost without a voice
unsure of what she would find
left without a guide
no one to show her the way
pushing her way through the crowd
simply  to discover
 that this was no crowd
it was her pushing 
to get to the real her
she had made up her mind
without even known
that she finally
wanted to see herself
And not what the world had made her

These Words…Sweet Music

Playing loudly
windows dance in their wake
children a mirror image
They are spoken without thought
These words
leave mothers crying
father dying
Yes, I know
you were told
by this sweet music
it was ok
to forget about life
put all your thoughts
into hoes, money, and drugs
but did those words
Playing to the drum
of sweet music
show you
yes, YOU
the pain and heartbreak
that would follow

Covered in Pink??


Busy Bri Covered in PInk

Why am I covered in pink
when my words are black and white
when all we see is blood
When hate stands taller than love
Let me tell you why
The pink I stand behind
sounds off with a thoughtful voice
Hoping to a leave insightful thought
The feeling of comfort flying high
Giving hope to those in need
standing stronger
even when life seems so pointless
This is the pink of those
who looked death in the eye
putting their shoulder back
 saying no with a loud voice
This is why I stand 
Covered in pink

I am fear……

Hiding from the words I speak
hoping never to be seen
Speaking only in the darkest of lights
Leaving my thoughts behind
while reaching for the thoughts of others
Did you know I was fear
Or did I leave you thinking
I was oh so bold
From the words I write
Has this mask fooled you
into thinking, I had it all together
Well its all a lie
For I am fear
I breathe it as if my life depends on it
It consumes me like a black hole
Eating away at my soul
I’m sorry but it’s true
I am fear
This is who I am
written in black and white
for the world to see
Will this ink dry in time
for me to say I am fear no more
I can only hope
But for now……I am Anxiety!



I laid in bed fighting with fear the other night. I hated it! So I started writing to clean my head and out came this poem. Fear has controlled my life for so long. Do I tell someone or do I keep it in? Everyone has a “fear” right? But it seems mines it much more than just “a” fear. Everything I do and say it followed with fear of what others think or feel. And it’s not just that things that happened years ago that I’m sure others don’t even remember still brings fear. This type of fear has left the real me fighting to be free. The only way I know how to fight back is in my writing. There are writings I have written and never posted. Yes, I feel better for that moment. But how would I feel if I actually let the world see me? The me that has to cry or write just to clean her head. I could write the best of poems but that’s nothing if I can’t write about the darkest of times. So here it is me naked for the world to see! I hope this helps someone dealing with Anxiety. It’s real, no matter what kind of anxiety it is.