A Poem by Phree:


How painful it has been to be loved by me.

How sad a story.

My exes got tired of playing me the worlds smallest violin.

Became exhausted from my excuses excusing my abusive behavior.

My patterns an emotional rollercoaster;

A hamster wheel:

A cycle of repetition;

Of generational connections;

A few of my lovers loved me so hard it broke them.

My therapist says,

One pill a day would keep me still enough not to split. should consider checking my imbalances;

Repress my anger as a form of healing.

My anger,

Has been form of healing; survival of the fittest;

A way I have taught myself protection.

Hold your head !

Don’t fold !

Hide them knees from shaking!

Fear is weakness, Pussy.

My tongue has become sword and pistol.

My hands Granades themselves, I detonate every time.

My scars, have become hardened and overly sensitive;

A constant reminder of where I’ve been so that I never return there again.


a prayer away from finding a kind of peace no doctor can sign off on.

A work in progress but not quite a paragon, yet a diamond still.

A stone pressed until its crystals crack through the surface; to reach for its light.

And it shines;

Like it was suppose to.

BIO: Phree is an Interdisciplinary Artist who utilizes their gift of creativity as a tool to address self, life and it’s experiences. Art is healing.

Photo by Sarah Leamy

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