Still Growing

When I was born, my father looked me in the eyes and could only manage the word, "wow" out of his dry lips, because he knew immediately that I was going to be a handfull. I was the definition of lightning speed and the stars made me into my mama's own wide eye wander. My occupation was to climb trees and wonder why no one else did. Growing up, my best friend was the words that Poe and Wilde wrote and they helped me understand how lonely I was at five years old.

When I turned thirteen, I realized that I didn't know my limit and that it was my worst enemy. My wide eyes were no where to be seen and I had no idea how to spell my own name. I screamed my words instead of slowly speaking them and I couldn't make eye contact with the person I knew best. But I was still growing.

Seventeen rolled around and my wide eyes were back and I finally learned how to spell my name. I started speaking with a lower voice and a smile tickling my lips. I have seen a hundred struggles and I lived through them all even when I thought I wouldn't live to see the next sunrise, but I always did. I still didn't know my limit but I was still growing. 

When I was born my father looked at me and said, "wow" and it was followed with, "You were born to do the impossible." My mama loved my wide eyes and told me to never close them. In eighteen years I have had my moments of mistakes, but my parents wouldn't change a thing about their wide eye wanderer. 

My father told me I was born to do the impossible and I believe him.

This poem is about: 
My family


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