I look into my past through old poems.
each yellowing page
telling another story of that sadness;
dark and full of worry.
I read and learn from them now;
just how much irregular darkness
resided in my heart.
Those nights I cried myself to sleep
always thinking this is middle school.
This is normal.
Through those poems I am reminded
Life becomes better
And poetry changes
You no longer write about your pain,
but how happy you’ve become.