I’m from endless nights,
forced smiles and sad sounds.
I’m from my threatened sanity and insane family,
And from too many therapists that failed me.
I’m from the sharp words that were thrown at me by people that I had to live with.

I’m from half full diaries and crumpled up paper piles in the corner of my badly lit room,
And from the sweet and angry lyrics of Sia and Daughter.
I’m from the woods beyond my back yard and the trees that helped hold up the sky in my crumbling world.
From the invisible wall that I put around my body, like a space suit.

I’m from the raindrops that fell around my eyes and from the words that stained paper.
I’m from my roof where I sat on summer days,
From all the friends I didn’t have.
I’m from prescribed bottles of Zoloft and Valium.
I’m from all the weight I lost, from all the inches I’ve grown,
And from all the scars I’ve gained.

Though from sad origins and expressed silence,
I’ve moved away, and started on a new yet stained page,
But I’ve learned from all the wind and trees and sun, I’ve seen,
that I started out small, I started out tiny and helpless to the deafening sadness around me, but I grew so the trees no longer had to hold up my crumbling world.