I was quiet but not blind

I was slow but wise

For I knew everyone around me and I studied them

I had random outburst of anger that I could not control some days

but I tried my best to be kind

for I was not made for school

And I know it’s gonna sound corny, conceited, portraying i’m saying I’m too cool

But I’ve only ever dreamt of becoming a real poet

I wanna write books in my bedroom

I wanna go on walks and see the birds fly

I wanna travel with them

I wanna be able to pick up everything and leave at random

attached to nothing but still know my identity

to feel the freedom of truly being free

for the world to accept me

i want to be a real poet

move to a quiet city in Colorado

study the trees instead of people

notice the direction the wind blows

not even needing to go home

just write

sit beneath the cliché cottonwood trees i tell story’s about

just breathe

feel the exhales

release my insecurities

nature doesn’t care about beauty

it has beauty within its self

feel each rain drop on my skin

thank god i’m alive

thank god one day when im 35 ill be publishing books with a husband by my side

and everyone who rooted for me or prayed against my demise

will realize that i have gotten over suicide and my mother will realize that she was never a mom

and there was a reason why we never got along

I knew who I was from a very young age and she had no clue

she was 45 still hitting the weed

she would hide under her sink

unable to complete the simple task of love so she ran from it

she never grew

but she is my muse so for that i’ll thank her

for each cut scrape and bruise

i’ll thank my mother for giving me the cottonwood tree to look up too