The words flooded the shores of my pysche and poured
through my limbs into my fingers
and with a pen as their vessel, embedded
themselves into the paper.
I broke free of the inner cage I used to
suffocate the best parts of me.
24 ******* years I shut my happiness into
a jar and left it for every one else to hold
in their destructive hands.
How long had I let everyone else decide for me?
How long had I thought my self incapable of holding my self afloat?
I am not useless.
I am not small.
I am not for you or anyone else.
I am me.
I am brave.
I am extroidinary.
I am a warrior with a spirit brighter and bigger then galaxies stretching into oblivion.
I am alive.
I sat at this desk where I wrote the best thing I will ever write for my self.
I reinvented my being and picked my self up from the dirt and I promise to grow
Into the most beautiful garden you will ever see.