I am from scars, those both on me and in me
From a heart full of holes, needing to be healed
From months spent battling to survive, born too early to take a breath
I am from hands afraid to touch me, for I was fragile
From statistics told to a mother, that my existence was to be hopeless, if I lived at all
I am from those who left me, wondering what I did wrong
From thunderstorms on sleepless nights, where I’d sneak into my mother’s room
I am from the dog that stayed by my side for as long as she could, until her grief was to much to bear
From the hospital visits, where I watched Papa slowly fade away
I am from new beginnings, hard earned lessons
From protecting the world to protecting myself from it
I am from a vile man’s mistakes, discarded like trash
From a mind full of feelings, never again to be ignored
I am from the woods, hidden away from prying eyes and judgmental thoughts
From the wind that tickles my skin, as I swing, free no longer afraid to fly
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