I am from a family
      Who suffers
    From depression
      Anxiety
    Bipolar disorder.

     I am from a father
   Who is, and
                                             Was,
A drug addict.
                                         He took me
On drug runs
  When I was little

                                       I am from a home
   Filled with people
   Who like to write
  On their skin and
    Tie knots in ropes.
          
   I am from my mom,
Who suffers from anxiety and depression.
    She writes on her skin
                                       With razor blades -
Plays in traffic
And practices tying knots.

I am from a time, a place,
Where you can trust no one.
Your only therapist
  Is music

I am from a family

Of whom I can not talk
My pets
Calm me.

I am from parents
Just teenagers at my birth
No games
No toys
No money.
My older sister
And I
Would stay outside.

I am a person
who has few activities
and hobbies
I am a person shy
Suffering from depression
Anxiety
I drew on my skin
I am a person
Facing problems
Saying, “You don’t control me.”

Now I am from
A mother who
Is trying her best
To recover
Who wakes up
In the morning
On the weekend
To cook breakfast.
Who smells like French perfume
I am from
A survivor