Experience

I have led an interesting life.

My childhood was devoted

To living through fictional characters

In nobler times

And grander places.

I have read for nights on end

With nothing to disturb me

But the hum of cicadas.

I have conquered

I have loved

I have lost

I have suffered

All in ink.

I was with Perseus.

I hoisted his gleaming shield

And felt the frigid stares of statues

As I voyaged through the dark.

I have slain my Gorgons.

I was a gunslinger.

I saved myself from unbridled insanity

And pitiless machines

With the riddles of others.

And on occasion

I felt a gnawing emptiness

At the sight of the phrase

“The End.”

I lived in the night

When the consuming silence of the world

Became my canvas.

By day

I watched through my window

As children braved the heights of trees.

The persistent sun

Invoked the shadows of my fears

And conjured cowardice.

Inside

I envisaged my future

And what a difference I could make

For the unhappy.

I thought I could be a hero

If only I were older.

Years passed.

I remember bright and hopeful Christmases

With colorful paper

And warmth

Created by fire

And good cheer.

I also recall birthdays

That were cut short

At the arrival of

Blue, pulsating lights

And harsh voices.

I remember the living room

Full of laughter and smiles.

I also remember

Taking shelter under an ironing board

Hiding from anger

And projectiles.

The tapestry of my life

Embroidered with gold thread

And fond memories

Has a dark, tenebrous backing.

In my adolescence

I became a blank sheet of paper

For those I called my friends.

Fresh parchment

Full of promise

Is ruined by an eager pen.

I was a mystery to myself.

I isolated myself;

I feared that I would play

The wrong role

In someone else's story.

I watched the moon

Over the bleached bones of trees

With someone who played a greater role to me

Than I could have ever imagined.

I poured out my soul

In one conversation

At a sleepover.

I found solace in a friend

That knew me better

Than I knew myself.

Slowly

Tentatively

I have begun to fill my pages

With the stories and illustrations

Of my experiences.

As my adolescence progressed

So did my confidence.

I gained a multitude of friends

That have become my extended family.

I have performed geometric beauty

With my comrades.

I have performed art

For a crowd of thousands.

I sweat, work, and bleed

With my brothers and sisters

Every day.

I have felt soaring victory

As well as bitter defeat

And I have been comforted

By my family

Of 199.

We have danced to the cadence of drums

And the beating of our hearts.

Blood may be thicker than water

But pride is just as thick.

Music carries a greater weight

Than spoken words ever could.

I am a musician.

We are musicians.

And we are proud.

I have seen a smile

So bright

That I melted on the spot.

His smile spoke of warmth

And comfort

And happiness.

Though I have felt unbearable pain

From our unbearable love

We have thrived.

Friends, family, and love

Fill my pages

With bright colors.

Darker colors

Though still present

Are less and less conspicuous

Every day.

Yes

I have been stung

With hostile words

And I have stung.

I have borrowed masks that did not suit me.

I have known the voices of fiddles

And rejoiced in the flames

As they sang.

The deliberate destruction

Had a sinister beauty.

However

I have hoped.

I have felt comfort

As I sifted

Through pieces of memories.

Recollections

Have bred smiles

And tears alike.

I have fond memories

Of conversations in the dark

With a close friend

Whom I consider my sister

Of a comforting father

An intelligent mother

And an amazing partner

That words cannot fully describe.

Maybe now

You understand

Why I am

Who I am.

Rustling leaves

And memories

Tell as many stories

As rustling pages.