Not my head, not this time.

It has been a hard battle.

It has been a long battle.

Questioning myself,

Questioning my worth.

Am I worthy to have been in these places,

The places I have been,

The people that I sat with?

What if I am not good enough?

What if I have never been good enough?

The walls said I did not belong.

The people that possessed the walls,

They said I did not belong.

Even the blood that was poured on the foundations,

The foundations that the walls were laid,

Their blood did not want me.

I woke up one morning;

It was a different energy within me.

The heavenly and its realms had been revealed,

Revealed too many times to me.

Not the eyes of many have beheld the things I have seen,

And a promise of grain from all the world at my feet.

Then I said no more,

Not this time again.

Never again.

Not my head.

I speak with confidence,

Confidence energized by the promise of a heritage.

So not this time.

You have met the new era.

You will not have my head.

I know who I am now.

You will not have my head.

I understand my function.

You will not have my head.

It serves you to make me feel small,

It serves you to make me feel little.

It serves you too well,

Because then there will be no one,

No one to challenge your stupidity,

No one to stand up for the weak like myself.

Who do you think you are?

A gentle reminder:

This is all you are—

An oppressor.

But I will defeat the oppressor.

Not my voice,

And surely not my head.

Thank you for making me suffer.

Thank you for your heartlessness.

Thank you for intimidation.

This is what you did.

Now face the music.

Not my head.

Never again.

You will not control the narrative.

Not my identity.

Those walls that rejected me,

I will write my name on them,

And anoint their foundations with His blood.