Like clay molded into a beautiful creation ready to be shown off,
I am Brave.
Their hands reached out to me as a child, they heard my silent cries. Backed into a corner where I thought no one could hear me. They told me, “It will be alright. We are here to help you.”
I was frightened. Like broken glass on the side of the road you consciously step over, all my pieces were picked up and made into something new.
I am Brave.
I am beautiful.
A constant battle between myself and my thoughts. Why can’t I be a pretty as her?
Why do I look like this and not like that?
Thoughts of giving up and never coming back.
Took my mother’s beauty and confidence to realize
I can’t possibly look like that girl, when one day I’ll look as fierce at that woman standing beside me.
I am beautiful.
Caring.
I put the weight of others pain on my shoulders, feeling what they feel.
I give them a shoulder to cry on, a place to sleep, and a friend who will always be there.
I listen to you because I know how it feels to be shut out. I was once like you.
I am caring.
I am brave, beautiful, and caring.
I’ve grown so much from when I was alone and afraid to reach out.
I am more confident now that I resemble my mother.
I am more caring knowing that people hit rock bottom and need that special person to lift them up.
All these things are what make me, me. I wouldn’t want it any other way.