a 19-year-old female from a world with windows

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"We cannot conquer if we do not know what it is to fail. We cannot rise, if we have not an inkling of what it means to fall. And we cannot live, until we have died."

It's not that I'm trying to slander

I'm just spitting the truth here

This is the one place where it's possible for an entire world

To be lifted off a single piece of paper
I remember the time before I found power in my words
Faith shattering into a million pieces
I could hear with deaf ears

I could see with blind eyes
Broken, battered, bruised, shaken,

Whispers telling me I'm forsaken
I locked myself away in a safe where I thought I was clean
From all the dirt that had collected under my nails
I couldn't see, that the dirt was me
I suppressed every truth, projected every lie
Expected some sort of recess from my distressed mind

And then, good ol' papa came alone down the road
Found me hiding in some bushes, and picked up the tiny shards of my obliteration
Instead of my blood he gave me a small bottle of writers ink and said:
"Baby girl, let's talk about poetry."
He told me I could
Express my
Trauma without any
Repercussions if I just said
Yes to all my flaws
And saw them to be beautiful
When I scribbled my troubles against any surface I knew
It wouldn't talk back or throw stones when I wasn't looking
Nor would it loom over me, like those dark clouds I'm so used to seeing
It let me be, for the first time in my life

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