I used to live in a madhouse. I am forced to fend for myself. There I see my mom injecting herself. I feel scared for my safety. I walk back to my room where i'm surrounded by walls. I never understood what my mom was doing. I also knew not to ask her why either. Everyday was the same routine for me. I always wanted to play with the other kids. Everyday I had to watch them play from inside. I woke up in the morning to a bang on the door. I thought it was the man that bought candy bags from my mother. I took a peek and found it was the police. They talked with my mom for a while. I didn't think it was worthwhile. The cops took me by the arm. They then put me inside their car I was at a new building. One I had never seen before. I was scared wondering where I would be living. So I snuck out of the room to explore. I was greeted by an old lady. She sat me down and gave me a pastry. She told me I would be going back to that madhouse. A few years passed and I found a new family. One that gave me a sense of belonging and purpose. They helped me to deal with my past tragedy. They let me explore the world in a surplus. I found my passion of waterpolo and design. With my family's help I was able to shine. I have them to thank for making my live so divine I used to live in a madhouse