Never could I find a place amongst my peers.
People don’t know how much words affect how you feel.
I began to write to expose all that I had concealed.
My fantasy world was much better than what was real.
Yells and arguments enclosed the walls of my house
Never did I dare to let a sound out of my mouth,
Until I grew, and discovered the power of a shout.
The power that possibly set the ground that I walk on now.
An active imagination is what kept me alive.
When my life depended on a knife,
A spark of hope ignited a will to write,
A will to fight, and to keep my bruised fist tight.
Every bad experience turned into a lesson.
Every lesson is my weapon.
Every weapon helps me live life; no aggression.
This is what I see when I stare at my reflection.