3,271 days,
A tiny seed hit the fields of West Michigan.
Fields of envy bloomed,
A family of two,
A mother and a father,
Came to view the beauty.
They take the tiny seed,
And give it a home to view,
This unique flower’s growth.

Two years late,
The flower bloomed into a young girl.
Living life,
At the reckless age of 17.
Questioning the world around her,
But never questioning her purpose in life.

Her brown hair,
Inherited from her father and the ancestors,
Who roamed this land before her.

Her hazel eyes,
Given to her,
From the opportunity she has grasped,
In her tiny hands.

Her off-shade of pale skin,
Given to her by a mixture of neglect and love.
This is better than the milky cream
Of neglect she known before.

The body she calls herself
Is filled with scars,
From the inside and the out.
Yet they heal,
From the love she has received,
And from those who are close to her heart.

Her slim hands
Embrace the shaking habits of anxiety and social issues
In which she has yet to conquer.

Her mind
Unable to grasp the facts she hears every day,
But comprehends,
The darkness that has claimed her as a home.

She found home,
In the family she was given.
In the life she had the opportunity to live.
In the role she was meant to play.
She did her part.
She did her role.