The winter hit different that time, 

I hid behind the scenes, 

Behind this idea of a perfect image, 

I continued on lying to myself, 

Poisoning myself with these lies, 

I had cracked ,

but I was only a dent into the destructive world we live in, 

It got harder to breathe, 

But maybe that was my asthma acting up, 

I thought a million thoughts a minute, 

solutions? Or was it just to make wrong a right?

Thoughts after thoughts. 

Years after years. 

It is not about finding a cure, but

it is about growing, 

watering yourself, feeding yourself, finding enjoyment in things and moving on,

I can say with confidence i've grown, 

I am glad to have grown with this family, 

There's this pounding in my chest, 

when I start to think of what could have been, 

My father is a cruel man, 

But I don't hate him, 

He struggles with his own demons, 

I know now of course, 

But he had the option to grow and yet, 

he chose unwisely.