Coming From Where I'm From

Close your eyes and picture this

Two little black children playing on the corner

The little girl has two pig tails braided so they wouldn't be a mess

But the little boy is bald

He has a long thick scar in the back of his head.

The boy has leukemia.

The children grew up together, becoming friends quickly.

They protected each other from the bullets that strayed down their block.

Harvey was no place for little kids to play outside, but it didn't bother them.

In their innocent minds, they were invincible.

Until one day at the age of eleven the little boy dies leaving the girl feeling helpless.

She didn't know where to go or who to turn to, for she had lost her best friend.

In her mind he wasn't suppose to die so young.

'Kids don't die' is what she always thought.

But in his mind, he always knew his life would be short. 

The little girl fell into silence

Three months after the boy's death she moved into a better nighborhood.

But she didn't have the things other little kids had

So she was teased

And she fell into depression.

There was not a day where the saddeness would lift.

So instead of hurting herself, she turned to a journal.

She began writing about what she saw and how she felt.

She finally found a release from the pain the world was causing her.

The weight on her shoulders finally lifted when she was writing. 

It saved her life. 

She grew up cradling the journal, as if it were her own child.

To her it was her life. 

I am she

She is me.

Coming from where I'm from

The grass isn't always greener on the other side.

The fruit isn't always sweeter

And the water isn't always clearer.