I’m a little lost

to be honest.

I found my first true passion in post-hardcore rock bands

less than a year ago

but regardless of the beauty

or vulgarity

in the fires of the passer-bys around me,

I had always felt that such emotion was a factor

found in only the fullest forms of living.


I’m a child of one divorce and one separation

but no kid hasn’t had to say goodbye at some point.

Life goes on.

I can’t say that I’ve ever been traumatized past the point of no return.

Contrastingly I can’t say that I have had the privilege to only experience conflicts minor enough to never be considered as a topic for a college personal statement.

I’ve made my own scars

and the experiences that have chipped my skin

have taught me how to heal my wounds

and feel pride towards my tiger stripes.

They are the rings counted on my tree stump

and will tell just as many stories.


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