I didn't enjoy it

I sit here as I delete my 20 other poems

I sit and think what is growing up for me?

What does it mean?

What does it bring?

And I always find the same thing.

The same sentences over and over.

Growing up consisted of wars,

infinate battlefields constricted by dark walls.

So much it became nothing...

If you asked me if I enyoyed it I would tell you,

How could I?

When I was forced to walk roads of pure black,

forced too look down into the emptiness of the void

knowing that everything was staring back.

I didnt enjoy it,

but it shaped who I am.

I never enjoyed it.

But I am grateful of it;

because it shaped who I am.

Walking those empty roads made me aware,

aware that others can be surrounded;

but that everyone is like black dots

in a sea of nothing.

And so I reach out,

I reach and reach to try to help.

Because even if they can see me,

or hear me,

they can feel I'm there.

And that in their hearts they are not alone.

I did not enjoy growing up...

But I'm thankfull for the person they created.

Now I can light up my own path,

and seek my own future.