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Poetry found me when I could no longer see myself.When writing what I felt became my only release. When my heartbeat could not steady, my hands wrote the words to calm the rhythm.It does not have to beautiful or rhyme,
Daughter of the single widow, No, daughter of strong indepenent woman. Victim of rape, No, survivor of sexual assault. Seventeen year-old m.i.l.f., No, young, independent, and beautiful single mother.
That girl who looks better with a smile No dark clouds on her shoulders Works hard to make a way Provides what she can..Naiv(E) Some should call her a little soldier Book smart yet shy
Find your placeWhether it be crowdedAnd shroudedMaybe people galoreBut something you should know isYou may still be aloneYour place may be crampedSmashed and bashedInto a tiny corner
You don't really follow dreams You fight, You chase You lose, You win A struggle of accepting and denying parts of what you believe. Defining why you are here. Why you should be
Define yourself Are you blending into the background Like the kids in the back of class Or are you as bright as The pink elephant in the middle of the room Does your mind sit still Like a singer on hiatus