I am from the Eastern European world, leafy cabbage patches, and a lonely orphanage
I am from weary eyes, shaky hands, and the lack of a mother's love in my first year
I am from extraordinary love and pushing it away
I am from scraped knees, dirty cheeks, and distance
I am from anxiety and depression, lip biting and pill swallowing, red of my body where no one can see and hospital gowns
I am from a bottomless pit that does not recognize.
I am from a damaged soul from which I am growing.
