I liked connecting the dots when I was younger—
drawing a line from dot to dot to make the picture.
My tongue between my teeth, with concentration traced on my face
as I connected the dots to make the picture.

I still like connecting the dots.
But now, I’m trying to make the picture of who I am now—
why I am the way I am now.
Connecting the dots to find out what happened
to the old me—the hopeful me, the happy me.

Connecting the dots to find the events that led up
to this different person I’ve become,
connecting the dots to make the picture of me now, inside and out.

I’ve connected the dots.
There is no picture—just a jumble of lines
leading in no clear direction, passing over each other, and lines cut off, just one massive knot of confusion.

So, with my tongue between my teeth
and concentration traced on my face,
I’m trying to make a new picture.
No dots, no lines—just me,
making the best new me I can.

A little boy plays by the river,
Slips on wet rock by the stream,
He scrapes his knee.

He cries from the pain,
But his buddies laugh it away.
And he becomes a man,
Because grow men don't cry, right?

I want to say I’m tired of me
But I know more now
Im not the hole in her shoe
I'm not the broken umbrella in the storm

When the ghost of abandonment tries to make it's presence
The tell is known by it's unbelievable burn
My soul wants to start crumbling again
My heart starts to wither per automatic

It was their choice
Maybe I wasn’t even the reason they left
Maybe I wasn’t thrown away
Or maybe I was
But its not on me
Its on the who made that decision

Im trying to remind myself of my worth
Someone’s choice shouldn’t determine my worth
It have ruled my love and brokenness for so long

I know more now
The more you know the more you are
I am more

Memories are like water.
They slip through your fingers,
Slippery and nimble.
They are like a beam of moonlight,
Breaking through the darkness of my thoughts,
Memories of better times.
They are the stars through the black,
That may be hidden but never go away.
They can shine bright as the sun,
Keeping my mind bright and warm and safe.
But they can also spread darkness,
A plague spreading through my mind.
Overcast skies and guilty thoughts.
But I am learning to fight it.
Memories against memories.
Making new, better ones each day.
I will win.

Powdered concrete broken down,
Rocks show on the barren ground.
Tiny particles of dust and sand,
The dirt is rich in this poor land.
But you see a **** poke from a crack—
That's just a sign of beauty, new growth pushing concrete back.
The **** bares a sight of simple charm,
The sweetest daisy, growing strong, green leaves for arms.
The beauty this daisy possesses shows such grace;
It shines upon her yellow florets, her face.
What beauty comes from something walked on,
Something that's kicked and never looked upon!
This beautiful daisy, not only a new birth from the ground,
Shows signs of a new beginning and joy all around.