I was born with a purpose, not a purposed to be liked; like the stars and the moon in the thick, dark night. People talk about me and they say as they please, but like my grandmother said: "Don't let it affect me." Because every person struggle like everyone else, you cannot be perfect unless you love yourself. As I go through trials and sections of tribulations, I breathe hard like a baby with no respiration. My childish ways is far long to be gone, and then soon my womanhood is here and strong. My pain and suffer is different from others, as I grew up from time to time barely knowing my mother. I once was happy as I had someone special in this world, until one day she was taken from me, leaving my stomach to twirl. It took years to cope with a heavily broken heart, but it only got worse when my parents split apart. While my father fought the streets and my mother fought the world, I fought other people, when they expressed abuse as I turn. In order for me to express my natural pain, I would paint a picture or listen to the calm rain. I cannot trust anyone except only myself, because once I trust someone there is a doubt you can trust someone else. So an ode to myself would be the best for me, because this is a way to express the real me. I'm unique and that's the only way I'll ever be.
An Ode To Myself
April 19, 2010