Coming of Age

At four years old, daddy walked away. He said maybe i’ll come back some day. At five, mommy said she wishes I wasn’t such a pest I never meant to get in her way. At six years old, I learned how to sing. At seven, the world looked colorful, There was no worries and things were bright. At eight, I felt like I could touch the clouds. At nine, I thought I could swim the oceans. I could travel everywhere, with no care in the world. At eleven, I tried not to be afraid At twelve, I learned how to paint. My paintbrush was like the wind, It would breeze along a canvas and then I would feel free. At thirteen, I felt alone. There was no one in the world that could cure me from this pain. At fourteen, I was depressed. My world was grey. The colors from my paints all showed one color, I felt like I was falling down a deep pit. There was no where I could go and no way out. Until I turned fifteen. Then I found them. The ones who showed me it’s ok to smile. A peek of color began to show And I no longer felt so alone. Now at seventeen, I've learned how to be a better me. That I dont need anyone Except me, myself and I. I've learned that sometimes, Facing the fears of growing up alone May just make you stronger, Brighter, And more unique. At seventeen, I learned that being gay, Was perfectly ok. I learned to express myself Through paints That can never fade. I know now that coming of age May not be great. That sometimes those we love And hope to be there for us May not ever really be. That you just have to push on your own And make your colors shown. Even when you feel completely alone