I remember my first

A story about hidden pain

A story about the desperate cries

I remember my first

Because then, I had nothing to gain

 

I found my mind devouring the paper

I found my need for help spilling

Anything to forget was my choice of escape

Anything to distract the menacing thoughts

I remember because each were chilling

 

I played them off with a smile and a laugh

I acted as if I were describing a story

Afraid of admitting the gruesome truth

At the time, I remember 

Because I didn't want to be in that "category"

 

And with time I accepted it all

I even plotted my own demise

Because nothing helped

Or so I wanted to believe

For I was desperate to continue my lies

 

My poems seemed to disappear 

My words never came to

I remember because I didn't want them

I didn't think I needed to express it all

I didn't want to believe that I needed to spew

 

Just as I was ready to give in, I met her

An English teacher I grew to adore

She helped me gain my confidence with words

She helped by pushing me to the brink

I remember, because writing was no longer a chore

 

My poems are now my stories

They're the strength I need to grow

They're not at all glorious 

But they're my truth

And to me, my poems glow