The End of a New Beginning
  • Reads 416
  • Votes 46
  • Parts 19
  • Time 17m
  • Reads 416
  • Votes 46
  • Parts 19
  • Time 17m
Ongoing, First published Jan 20, 2016
It's too late now. We just have to move on. 

The memory keeps appearing on my mind. I can't seem to forget it. It constantly makes me recall back to that very day. It was rather disturbing. I am desperate for answers....

Time passed as I waited patiently,
For the new born to arrive,
So I will no longer be sleep deprived.
Everything seemed overly strange,
It was not to be spoken of. 
Mentioning it would bring despair. 
I thought it was just a blur.
One that could not be identified,
And definitely unjustified.
Does anyone have an answer?
Maybe it was cancer.
No, that can't be the one.
Because I am so done.


Now I'm starting on a blank canvas, sketching on my journey as I move forward to the future, leaving my past behind. Keeping in mind that things happened for a reason and that I should be grateful no matter what.
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Pinwheels and Dandelions by cjacks1124
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I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.
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