Every, "straw that broke the camel's back" weight,
added to a plate that I could barely see the bottom of already
felt heavy enough to force me to my knees in surrender,
but I wouldn't let it render me weak.
I would keep, even if it killed me,
and it nearly did.
I was barely ever asleep,
my mind would stay awake
turning over events of days
I didn't find enough solutions to problems that kept
"straw that broke the camel's back" adding up
before I could solve them.
I didn't know what to call them,
so I didn't but that didn't hinder them from existing.
It didn't stop them from weighing
"straw that broke the came's back" heavy on my heart
or my conscience when salacious nights
made it feel like the only hands that were clapping
for me were the ones on my ass
and so I clasped onto loves,
that were never intended to last,
for dear life.
And one night, the straw that broke the camels back
was almost you, until God came through
and turned the straw that broke the camel's back
into a bed for me to lay in.
Kimolee Eryn is an artist and writer who believes in creating for a purpose beyond the purpose of creating. She believes that a life should be lived not just to sustain itself but to cultivate peace, love and growth in all adjacent beings and hopes to exemplify that in all she does.