I had nothing in life,
Every day was pitch black,
Dad was dead,
We were barely getting by,
The same mundane routine every day,
I'd get off from school,
Only to get beaten by my uncle who for lack of a better word was a drunk,

I remembered screaming,
Crying,
But he wouldn't stop,
And when I complained to my grandparents siblings,
They laughed it off as it were one big joke,
It was funny to them,
To see an eight year old complain about being abused,

I was ten when I met the worst teacher ever,
She yelled at me for using the wrong pen,
A freakin pen,
It was my first day in that school,
It only got worse from their,
Anything would make this woman mad,
From getting an answer wrong to wearing the wrong ponytail,
Nothing could make her happy,

When I was eleven,
I published my first story online,
People,
Even family laughed at me,
They said no one would like my work,
And when I got a call from a publishing house to publish in their magazine weekly,
They didn't want me to accept it,
Saying that it was a waste of my time,
That I should focus more on school,

I took it,
They thought I was a fool,
But I kept on going,

When I was fifteen,
I wrote my first poem,
And when I said I was going to publish in an anthology,
They called me a liar,
Saying my work could have not been that great,

But what is the point of telling you all this,
The point is,
That people will hurt you at every step of your life,
And then when you're successful,
Open their hands and ask for their share,
People are mean,
People take enjoyment in hurting others,

My wings were bleeding,
They had so many cuts,
And when I tried to fly,
It hurt so much,
And when I rebuilt them,
They tried to cut them again,
But their scissors broke,
Because I built them out of gold