Author: studentvoicesforum (Page 1 of 5)

Living in a corrupt society makes you unable to be at peace while you’re resting.

The fear of so called “justified-by-the-law” can make the man that was crucified disappointed by it all.

They will get what they deserve in the end, but as of now it’s not good to pretend.

Drink. Drink up.
Fill yourself with BCAA and whey,
The extra nutrients, extra calories, extra power, extra powder,
Extra ego,
To fill yourself in more,
As if you aren’t already big enough to exist.

Eat. Eat everything you can.
Load up on carbs,
Stack on more proteins,
so you can do one more hang clean
At your 3 hour gym work out
In the morning.

Lift. Lift all your insecurities.
You know sculpting your body
Is also people wanting to sculpt you
Into more than just skin and bones.
But after all that,
You’re still just skin with bones.
More muscle,
More masculinity,
To mask that fact
That you were secretly
upset.
Too small to be successful.
Too minute to be a man.
Just a failure.

By some standard
Who you are is not enough,
You need to be tough.
You need to be able to lift up a bar with 400 pounds
To be able to go reps and rounds
Of benching 20 pounds over your PR (personal record)
You set just last week.

Decreasing in size, in weight
In numbers,
Somehow makes you less valuable,
Somehow makes you less man.
Less human.

You did this for you,
As all the dudes do,
But most do this for them.
The them,
The they,
The people that say,
“Do you even lift bro?”

But when will they stop lifting
the burdens that others throw on them?
The extra 100 pounds won’t make
the weight of the pressure, the shame, the unreal expectations
Disappear.
Lifting what you, what guys, what men hear
Off of their shoulders
Is the ultimate PR.

(She) you love me for being broken,
Broken into like a jewelry store.
Only to be left with
Shattered sapphires
And checked out cash registers.

Broken for being loved
In such way that love
Not only
Breaks a heart,
But shatters a soul’s
Insolence.

(He) you love me broken
Broken in general
For the room is more
Infinite.

They adore my brokenness
To bend me inspire than one way
Sedated to know manipulation.

Yet, I am enchanted.
Yes, despite the broken strings of the broken
Strum that still brokenly echoes off pitch in the broken
Storage that allows
Things to come and go
In one piece,
I am splendidly shattered.
The broken only breaks
What must be fixed.

I stand before you,
as a creation from countless conflicts;
a birth from burned bridges
that history tries to bury,
covering the truth with dirt and mud and soil;
but, even the forgotten seeds
may grow through the toughest of toils;
may sprout from the slightest of sunshine
when skies reflect the blood, the tears, the dull gray stains
that drip through the very blood in my veins,
descended and blessed by my ancestors
who struggled then so I can have my todays.
History is not just his story,
or their story,
but my story as I came from the roots
from my people who left legacies
in the seeds
that sprung
through struggles
and survive through me–
living,
breathing,
sprouting more seeds.

I have added value to myself,
Subtracted negativity from my health,
Divided my time into sections,
And multiplied my worth beyond perfection.