It started,
Like the start of March in Tanzania,
Like clouds and clouds,
And clouds of misfortune
Before they rain heavily on us,
They said I was born with it,
Complications during childbirth,
That my mum would have never found out.
That I was lucky for it to be discovered this soon,
That I had only a month left to live,
That I have to be happy anyways,
That a twelve year old had to be strong,
Not that she was told to,
It just felt like it was time to grow up.
And grow she did
YOU ARE READING
S H E
PoetryI'm bold And shy I'm weak and strong. All of these make her, all of these are she and so much more.
