26 Letters

Is my life like a beat without a melody? Is this my legacy? These words that are bearing my soul and sharing a piece of me. Honestly, it's terrifying. "I don't write for other people to read." But I guess that's the difference a year can make. Outlining and defining my year in a poem is like trying to come up with a metaphor; difficult. Bearing my soul with the same 26 letters that everyone uses when bearing a souls. To put it simply my year was the same as everyone else's; there was laughter and tears, growth and memories, there were days when my soul cried out and days when it shattered.  I have math homework due tomorrow.  I'm sorry, my brain is a little scattered like the shattered piece of me.But each scattered, shattered and scarred piece of me is a lesson learned, a memory made, and a stitch in the seam of my wings. Lessons learned and bridges burned. Hands that held my heart slipped away. Stranger's hands now hold mine;A best friend that fell out of the blue into my arms, who taught me that being smart and opinionated was not a secret to hide but a truth to shout to the world. A boy who swept me off my feet and showed me the beauty in my own flaws. Together these beautiful boys taught me an everlasting lesson: The real you, the one you hide behind that mask, is not something to be ashamed of. "Infact I like you a lot more when you are being you."Beyond this new found earth-shaking truth the defining part of my 365 days, each moment shared with 7 billion other people, was the breaking of my heart.Not once or twice, but a thousand times over again. Each time a little cracked until it crumbled before meAnd as it crumbled, Wings grew and I knew I was free. These wings were each stitched up part of me; every laugh and tear and heartbreak.To put it simply my year was the same as everyone else's; summed up here with different arrangements of the same 26 letters. But to outline it for you the difference between the girl writing this poem and the one 365 days gone is that one of use has wings to soar and the other is still burying her soul in the snow.  

This poem is about: 
Me

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