I know where I come from,

where my mind was molded, and my perception shaped,

but it is not home.
This place boils over with memories
,
memories that I cannot escape.

I’ve walked every street,

and have seen every person,

but I never belonged to them.

This place is where my mind was set free in school,

where my enthusiasm was savored on the field,

where I had my firsts of everything in life,

but that includes my first scars.

This place has brought me pain I cannot shake,

fear that home will always haunt me,

loathing for the people that make-up this home,

self-pity for the burdens I must bare.

I would never look-back if I did not have to,

I would never think-back if I did not have to,

but I must because my home is my past,

and my past makes up my present,

but I will not allow my past to dictate my future anymore.

I want to let go of the fear, loathing, and self-pity

for my new journey cannot be fulfilled with a  heavy heart,

brightness can only shine over the dark for so long.

But I will find my home.

I will conquer this pain.

120 seconds.
2 minutes.
That is all it took to change my life,
to shatter my heart,
to take my childhood.
Locked between four walls,
stuffed between forgotten papers and books,
I was made prey for my once trusted predator.
Now I understand that I have never stepped outside of those walls.
Those walls have taken refuge around my heart,
and surrounded my mind.
They have preserved the initial scars,
and have supported the hatred, sadness, and pity for the hunter and hunted.
These walls have held me up until now.
Life without them seems intangible,
treacherous.
They protect me from another life-changing two minutes,
but they also shield me from the light.
I want that light.
I want that freedom.
I want to live.
Every nail that I remove leaves a scar,
every board I break off makes me vulnerable,
but I think it is time.
My heart needs room to grow,
and my mind needs to learn to trust,
to trust that life is worth living,
to trust that life can be kind,
to trust that I am worth it.

She’s clumsy and moody,
thrown into a tantrum at the slightest annoyance.
But the annoyances are simple, childish,
a protective sister, times tables, chores.
She is outspoken and demanding,
there is no hesitation in her voice,
no doubt.
She has not yet questioned her world,
an effervescent world.
She is shielded from it,
allowed to live in a state of ignorance,
allowing her heart to languish in trust.
But I know what she does not know.
I know that she will grow up,
become cracked and hardened by reality.
I know her heart will ache,
and trust will become more intangible as years pass.
Doubt will cloud her voice,
and fear will lower her head.
Because no heart leaves this world pure.
Because reality leaves no one unscathed.

Looking in I see him,
looking back I see him,
looking forward I see him.
With the slightest tug his face can be pulled from the trenches of my memory.
Fear, sadness, confusion
leaves my heart swollen when he breaks my walls,
when I see him in my reflection.
But the thought of life without my Devil leaves me more frightened,
He’s my crutch,
my guide through this life.
When I stop believing in my Devil, faith will be my crutch,
intangible faith,
an ominous Pit of trust.
But I must trudge through the Pit,
with an open heart,
without my Devil,
My friend.
My enemy.
My love.