I DO NOT OWN THIS POEM IT WAS WRITTEN BY A CLOSE FRIEND OF MINE.
I am from a lonely bed
From my Teddy Bear
And the pillow that kept me company
I am from place that is never peaceful
And the place that taught
me right from wrong
I'm from the tree in the backyard
whose ears were always there to listen to me
I'm from my great-grandmother's hot chocolate on a cold night and the smell of fresh-baked cookies on Christmas Eve
And from the broken wishbones on Thanksgiving and the late-night arguments
From the old church pews the choir singing on Sunday
I'm from the preacher touching my heart with his words
from ramen noodles and pasta
from the smoke being blown in the air I breathe and from the drugs to make it all go away as well as the blood and guilt.
I am from the moments I took my first words to My First Love and my first heartbreak. Who I am is not who I want to be but I strive for perfection
-Olivia Powell. I realized that when this life is over I will truly be free but until then I am this little bird who is trapped in this cell called life until the day I can finally say...I am free.
- anonymous
(I would tell you who it is but they told me not to)
AllyUniverse
Free-My-Soul
Grace-Susan
HandmadeSavvyImp
PetitMarshmallow
Nay_Nino
