Who am I…

That is something I always asked myself.

I found out soon after I was 11 years old who I really was.

I got put in a tornado trying to find a way out… it was impossible.

I lost it.. I lost it all.

I had a black hole where my heart was.

I got torn apart… piece by piece.

Scars were made… and they made me.

I seem like a perfect summer day with no downs…

if you saw the inside it would be something terrible and cloudy with rain… all black and white.

You expect better but the inside can not be hidden.

Poetry speaking to my soul and pieces that were left of me

Having a story that can break your heart and it isn’t even yours.

Having thoughts that tear at every sacred thing in you.

Seeing clouds as something perfect

Only one thing holding you up as if you were a newborn baby.

So many paths to make it to this point.

Choices were made… some greater than the others.

Days with them make me come back but it fades.

Still great and waiting for it all to come again.

What is the reason for all this stuff.

The reason… possibly for that happily ever after.

You ask who I am…

why don’t you tell me?

I think I am something you have never seen.

I am… me