I traded the Midwest for West Coast sunsets.
I left my home.
Some people said they were so sorry that I had to uproot.
I was not.
My home was my prison.
My Hell.
My cellmate was a cold-hearted beast with claws for hands.
Who used fists to persuade me that I was not good enough.
I hung my head low.
I had glass for teeth and empty space for eyes.
The other children clawed at my differences.
Tried to tear my originality
They beat me to only clay and a brain so they could mold me into who they wanted me to be.
I let them.
I thought a life lived alone was no life at all.
Alone is who I am.