Never could I find a place amongst my peers.

People don’t know how much words affect how you feel.

I began to write to expose all that I had concealed.

My fantasy world was much  better than what was real.

Yells and arguments enclosed the walls of my house

Never did I dare to let a sound out of my mouth,

Until I grew, and discovered the power of a shout.

The power that possibly set the ground that I walk on now.

An active imagination is what kept me alive.

When my life depended on a knife,

A spark of hope ignited a will to write,

A will to fight, and to keep my bruised fist tight.

Every bad experience turned into a lesson.

Every lesson is my weapon.

Every weapon helps me live life; no aggression.

This is what I see when I stare at my reflection.