I carry fragments of every version of myself.

A scared kid, alone, waiting in a car,
the world just beyond the window,

a quiet ache in my chest.

A troubled teen,

fingers trembling,

seeking solace in the burn of tobacco.

A young adult,

locked in a cage I built,

controlled by the world and its expectations.
But in the stillness of all these lives I've lived,

I’ve never surrendered.

I’ve learned how to survive.

I’ve fought battles, against myself, against the world,

I've been knocked down more times than I can count,
But I always get up.
I still work,

a slow, steady progress,

never perfect,

but always moving forward.