I lived in a a border town close to Mexico since I was born till I was 7.
It was the hottest place I have ever lived in yet it was (almost) heaven.Despite the blistering bubbling heat and the constant siren of police and ambulances, it was home.
My home.
It was my safest bubble that shielded me from horrors unimaginable, my most secure dome.In that small border town is an unsuspecting intersection...
What happened there put us in the map... and the deaths involved were for the public's personal inspection.1989,
a school bus full of children fell in a body of water and they drowned.
I believe that's when the grass started to turn brown...A statue of a white man that I was taught to refer to as Christ was constructed to watch over.
Apparently it was to bring grieving family some sort of closure...Anyways...
If you pass that statue you'll start to admire the green orange orchards.
The emerald green freckled with oranges brighter than a morning sun almost made you forget about the young souls forever tortured.If you keep driving, they'll be a street that turns left.
That street is where I grew up and where my memories are before the psychological theft.
YOU ARE READING
See Me Now
PoetryPoems recounting my life for those to see, for those to understand. This book does mention self harm and suicidal thoughts.