I was given a gift by my parents
A present I did not understand for a long time
It was a doll, so to say,
a puppet in the shape of a person
Not anyone I knew at the time,
but someone I would come to love
And that gift was called "life."

And I did not see myself in that gift
To be honest sometimes I still don't
I kept it, sure, but not pristine
I let it break, rip and tear
As I dragged it along with me.

Sometimes I looked in its eyes
And saw the darkness deep down
The problems that perhaps would never go away
And I got scared of it
Swore it wasn't my gift
That it wasn't my fault
And perhaps it wasn't indeed
Yet my responsibility it still remained
And continued to drag it, I still did.

But even with the mold and rust within
A speck of light would always shine through
Not always, and not even perfectly
Yet it was stubborn and unyielding
Almost as if on purpose, to be noticed
And notice it, I did.

So I try to sew its wounds shut
Needle, thread, stuffing and love
Some are tougher to mend, for sure
And there are some that appear incomprehensible
I don't even know where to start looking

Sometimes I even question if it is worth this effort
But I was given the most important gift
And I'll continue to patch it up, for as long as I can
You will only receive a gift like this once
And I will never give up on it