What killed me did not make me die
What killed me did not take my life
What killed me was not suicide
What killed me was not my fall from pride
What killed me was not what burned deep inside
What killed me was not my own self destruction
What killed me led me in another direction
What killed me ended all of my miseries
What killed me was not the bow bent by my enemies
What killed me smelled like my flesh burning
What killed me took everything away from me
What killed me was not the poison that filled me
What killed me was not what tried to abort me
What killed me was not when I stopped breathing
What killed me was not when I stopped believing
What killed me was not what I was grieving
What killed me was not what caused my bleeding
What killed me was not the mistakes I kept repeating
What killed me was not my ancestors hanging from a tree
What killed me was not seeing my brother die on his knees
No that’s not what killed me
What killed me is how I died in my poetry