Who Is Beyoncé, Really?
Here is the figure we have set up? A tall dark woman, with short luscious hair. Her toned biceps show veins popping out from the last set of pull ups she did, and her fingers bare calices and blisters from the grueling amount of curls she did. A stressed face lie perched on her head, showing the reality of her exhausting life- a newborn child, bench presses, a concert, a session of P90x, a TV interview- all are made clear on her face. She is domineering. When she walks into a room, everybody stops, looks first at her beautiful face, her hair shines with beauty as the light strikes it at the perfect angle, her ripped arms are glistening with fresh glitter put on by her full-time make-up artist, her legs bulging with muscles from all the extra leg presses she did before her last concert, she smiles, she waves, she turns her head to smile again. The one great assumption from which this portrait paints is an assumption that is shared by thousands of otherwise incompetent citizens. It is the assumption that Beyoncé is full of more bliss than any other human, that she can do more than the rest of us and is comforted by the aspects of her draining life.
I Am Tired Of Being Judged
I am tired of being judged. People trying to tell me what is right. My spirit is dead. My personality is dead. Everyone who tries to be different is dead. It is those freshmen who dare to break the waning beat of the drum. Yet the seniors who inspire the freshman are dead. The ice inside our souls can never melt, as we build a cage around it. Some people try to run, sometimes not making it out alive. I want to be able to see what this school can change into and see the great potential it holds. Maybe I shall find it among the dead? Students of the school listen to me as I plea. I am being taken over by this disease. For until we stand in front of Jesus we should never be judged.