It was the sway of the tree limbs,
the gentle hum of the wooden swing.
The sun on my face,
the wind in my hair.
The soft stir of the grass,
the smell of the earth.
It was the way my hands folded,
against my soft, bare lap.
And then I knew.
I had finally found the answer,
of what it means to be small.
To be one in so many different organisms and species.
To be only one,
compared to so many.
It was the comfort,
that even though you are so small.
When you stand up,
walk home,
you smile knowing that someone is waiting for you.

Dear mother,
I’ve only been a disappointment.
I can’t make you smile or laugh.
There are three other children who love you most.
I’m just the unlucky last.

Dear father,
I lost my relationship to you.
You couldn’t support me through and through.
We argued,
I left for mom.
How do you make it through?

Dear Jon,
Oh Jon.
My one true supporter.
Take care of my mom,
My sisters,
My brother.
I don’t want to hurt you much longer.

Dear Sister,
Dear M.
You were my best friend.
I let you down once more,
I guess here’s to the end?

Dear brother,
You’re 10.
You have so much life to live.
Don’t focus on one thing.
Don’t make my mistake again.

Dear baby,
Dear sis.
You’re only 2 months.
Your infant amnesia
Will make sure I’m gone.

Dear lover,
My love.
I can’t keep on loving you.
It hurts me to say,
I may love you too much.

Dear Best friend.
You’ve hurt me the most.
I know you inside and out.
But you’ve forgotten me.
And I gave you a family.

Dear me,
You won’t do it.
You just want to let go.
Your thoughts and your fears,
Are hard to let go.

When I first met her,
She had a smile as bright as the Stars.
Eyes always lighting up.
A mind that would soar.

She loved stories.
About dragons, knights, and queens.
The ones with magic.
The ones with thieves.

So, I’m going to tell you a story.
About how a girl who can die so many times.
About a girl that has lived,
A thousand times.

The first time she died, she was 11 years old.
She moved from one state,
Right out the door.

She was reborn a few months later.
Her love was for the violin.
She cherished her music.
It taught her to swim.

She died when she was 14.
Her dad left her mom.
Kicked out of the house on March 22nd.
She felt she had nowhere to run.

She once again was reborn.
Her violin kept her here.
Her friends and her teachers,
All wiped away her tears.

She died for her third time when she got accepted.
A bittersweet death,
One she didn’t know she could cheer.

This one took a long time for her to be reborn.
The school of music was what she wanted.
But she also wanted more.

She was reborn when her mom pulled her out.
And felt the hug of her friends a few days later.
To see the smile on their faces.
To hear that they missed her.

She died on her first heartbreak.

But she was reborn because she had loving friends.

She died when someone betrayed her.

But she was reborn when she promised “Never again.”

But what I never understood, was her death on September 1st of 2018.

That was the day that changed her.
The day she told me she would never die again.
That no one could steal her heart.
That no one would ever break in.
She told me that she was herself.
That his lies wouldn’t break her.
I saw her build a wall on her own.
I saw her start to pretend.

A few days later she died again.
But this time because of her sister.
Suicide watch was on the run.
She thought no one would understand.

To be not a burden,
She shut herself in.
She closed all her doors.
She started to pretend.

She was reborn when she started to heal.
She realized her worth,
She knew not to kneel.
She was her own,
No one could take her.
No one could stop her.
She was her maker.

I just wanted to say goodbye
Before you died.

My phoenix...
The shiver of the last note played,
On the violin in my hand.
The life I once had lost.
I found again.
For you are my phoenix.
That shivering note of the song at last.
The deafened applause of the audience,
You listened to my voice.
My words have never been stronger.
My phoenix.
My violin.
I pushed you away.
And now you're reborn again.

I'll fight for you.
Even if I fight alone.
Or you can't fight for yourself.
But do us both a favor,
And pick yourself up.
It doesn't have to be now.
But I'm going to help you win.
So pick yourself up,
Brush off your clothes.
And live.
And I'll keep fighting.

You've apologized to the point,
Where sorry doesn't mean anything anymore.
To where I feel nothing anymore.
I just wait until the next time you hurt me.