Growth Through Death

Mon, 05/20/2019 - 17:33 -- Townjp

As a child, I thought things were mundane and simple

But everything changed the day I got my first pimple.

A mix of depression and hormones, I thought of naught

Except for the notion that happiness can't be bought.

My brother faced the same change but down a different road

He stumbled until blindly he found the line he toed.

Fumbling in the dark with no clear path there he faltered

With no light around, his mind was to stay unaltered.

I came home to locked doors and rage in my head.

Hours later my father called, I sped home;

My brother was dead.

Darkness consumed me and I started to roam

New marks on my body, new scars in my collection

Depression wasn't a beast, it was an infection.

It spread like wildfire, uncontrollably fast

As others followed suit, they blamed the first not the last.

Sinking into mine own mind I lost sight of the truth

Until I was reminded of the secret of youth.

Happiness can't be bought but you may as well barter

It forced me to search inside, become slightly smarter.

The secret wasn't wealth, or even friends you hold dear

It's forgetting the pain and moving past yesteryear.

In my case, I had two choices,

A cacophony of voices

Trying to choose my path for me

Or not caring and being free.

Free of guilt

Free of fear

Being myself until my life was rebuilt

Regardless of the future being unclear.

That's the secret to finding happiness in yourself

The only sure way to protect your mind and your health.

This poem is about: 
My family


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