My past—
At times, it’s vivid in my mind,
At others, etched upon my scars,
And sometimes, even in my gait—
It quietly leaves its marks.
My past—
It breathes in silence,
Hides behind my smiles,
Yet walks beside me,
Every single mile.
My past—
A teacher I never chose,
Yet one I learned from anyway.
My past—
It tried to break me,
But instead, it shaped
The way I stand today.
My past—
I love it far too kindly,
For it never lets me feel
That I am bland.
My present—
Relies on the love of my parents,
For they are the first and last people
For whom I matter.
My future—
May be defined by my words,
For they are predictive and prophetic
To the ones who listen.
And I always listen to myself.