Everyone always wonders,
At some point or another,
What I am thinking about.
Truly, if they knew what went on
Up there in my noggin,
I'd pity them greatly;
No one should have to see
What it is I have seen.
Should even picture
The things I have gone through.
Should feel the fear and sadness
That I have felt.

But at the same time,
I'd let them share my few
Great accomplishments with me.
See the wonders I have seen
With my own eyes, when no one
Was around to ruin those moments.
To feel the wonderful happiness,
And even joy at some points,
That I was graced with.
To see my greatest memories
Of wonderful days past.
Oh, those were the days . . .

My heart used to be the same
As everyone else's; happy, healthy,
Pure as the newly fallen snow.
But then the darkness of reality
Fell upon my young self:
Bills that mommy needed to pay;
Places and people that
I had to leave behind, as I moved
To many different places;
Why mommy would cry in bed
Late at night when she thought
I was fast asleep.

No money to be spared
For things that we needed;
Some bills took forever to pay.
The rent became too expensive,
Thus moving was always
Inevitable for us.
Another man, leaving mommy;
Saying she was not right for him
Or good enough anymore.
I won't even go into
The pain I saw her go through.
For even now, it has no words.

Seeing all of this
So young in my life
Was very hard indeed,
and you would think that
My heart would have only
Become stronger as time went by.
But I'll tell you a secret, my dear:
It only made my heart weaker, like glass.
I became susceptable to harsh things.
But it also made me love
The simple things in life.
That must count for something, right?

When others took advantage
And tried to beak my heart of glass,
I used my soul of steel
To hold my own against them.
Be they class bullies,
Thoughtless "friends,"
Or even the one my mom
Was with at the time,
I could not be broken
(Though they came close
To finally doing so
Once or twice.)

On the flip side, however . . .
So many things to be thankful for.
A mother to love me,
A sister to keep me in line,
Friends who hold me up high
Just like I hope I do for them.
Passing glances of those
Who I once knew and held dear
Help me cope with the stressful
Things in life, you know?
Because, believe me you,
I get major stress.

The joy of making things,
Creating something from nothing,
Which is what writing is to me,
Strengthens my soul of steel,
Making it nigh indestructable.
For NO ONE can hold a soul and spirit
As free and wild as mine.
And I am happpy that I was born
This way and with this way of thinking.
Cuz, honestly, I don't know what
Would do if that were not the case.
. . . . Most likely I'd go insane.

The happiness I feel when someone
Compliments an art piece I have done;
It warms my heart and soul
To see someone become inspired
By something I have created;
Or even when they themselves
Decide to pursue draing, or painting,
Just because of a piece I have made.
The feeling can only be compared
To a mother looking at her child
For the very first time.
Call me egotistical, but it is true.

Now, this is all I can say about
My life so far; but who kows
What the future will bring, hm?
Mayhap I'll become a world famous
Writer and sell millions of copies
Of my historical fiction novels?
It is also likely that, when the time comes,
I will be like so many others
And live a quiet existence.
But I won't let that scare me:
After all, though my heart is made of glass,
My soul is pure, unbreakable steel.