God gave me poetry as an outlet For when I’m in a bad place When life gets my head spinning When depression is pushing me from all sides Anxieties of all kinds I put all these emotions on paper Out in the open and strip my soul naked This is where I run to
Your heart is simply your home. It is your safe place. Family consists of the things living in that ticker; it consists of the things you hold close in those chambers.
‘You can choose your friends but not your family,’ I am told by my parent who has caused me the most harm alone... but with the force of the wind I push against those groans.
The roots of my family tree do not match past generations. The roots connect to my heart and mine only; the veins that decorate the walls of my home.
So I bid you goodnight now a stranger to me, for I am finally free to be with my true family — I am safe here with my created bloodline, living happily in this little heart of mine.
I beg you to remember that family is what you make it: a pet, a series of books, a painting that brings you a sense of calm... Remember that you can, and must, uproot yourself from the weakened soil surrounding you.
I miss the friend that kept me safe, it kept me warm in my fragile state. I now walk proudly and without hesitation, knowing the friend that became my saviour is thriving surrounded by its fellow nature.
Do you wonder, like me, if fawns miss the warmth of the grass that protected them before their legs could carry their weight?