White Dove

White Dove by Gabrielle Tigner

20 days after the New Year

I was asked “ Who are you?” Unfortunately, the answers terrified me. However, when I reminisce on my past, I surprise myself with more questions.

How does this teenage girl  live with the  obstacles she has?

I don’t understand .I don’t understand the psyche wage that’s battered because of things I cannot control.

Life-it’s a hell hole!

I’ve lost the two people that I need ,BEFORE the age of 18.I’ve encountered judges for fault and fall .I even lost partial trust in my only sister , because she surprised me with a trip to a place

many, don’t get out of.

I felt imprisoned without consideration, from them not knowing I was chosen.

Chosen.

My life was planned out by a “God” before me . A  spu·ri·ous spirit that could save , but yet destroy me. I could only look into the mirror to see my past . Hidden secrets, dirty laundry , skeletons and rats.

So instead of punching a hole through my brain, I punched a hole through the   wall to alleviate the pain. I am the hole in the wall, with missing pieces of brackets painted over to reduce the pain.The cold paint that covers up my frown is only artificial . I haven’t had a real smile since before I said “I’ll always miss you.” Tried hitting different things but that became an issue.A misuse.

The hate & the anger I’ve obtained overpowers the good memories. My life is like a dreadful snail   when it touches crystals. I’m more than tampered. I’m lightly salted. I’m a potato chip with a can cover    mixed with tacky colors and looks brown .There’s nothing pleasing about being lightly salted , because I’m tainted with with a dysfunctional family  that doesn’t wash away with a dove.

“But that bird smiles, laughs, it’s just like us.” They tell me these lies to increase my trust.

But this bird has experienced hell before the heavens, a storm before the sun …. And plenty of cries    before it dies.

My conclusion is a question. The only answer I have to them.

What is life?Just an imaginary condition.

I’ve seen wild fires and burning souls. I’ve seen a man change to one who doesn't even know that,

This dove! Is not just another bird in the sky.

“ It could’ve been worse.” I should’ve died.

My mom didn’t deserve to lose her life over me. I may have gave stems to help her cancer, but since I couldn’t save her , I’ve became the forsaken.  . Why did she sacrifice it for me? I wasn’t even 10. I wasn’t even three.

“This time won’t you save me. Baby I can feel myself giving up.” Her last words were blurred up. But just , Why?

No wonder Marilyn, James, Michael and Whitney took a drug with no shame to tame the white wings just to be an Angel that sings.

I’m compared the greats who’ve already passed by .Honestly, I wouldn’t mind the  horrendous  fight.

Who am I to tell. I only know the person  that they tell me.I am. I am the Angel that Sings  with broken wings. I am the child in a new, but not my family. I speak the verse thats created in front me. I take the long lonely walks that Martin Luther sings.

My only way into heaven is by having a golden token. Who am I that has spoken? I’m on that lonely road  where the dirt flies up with the smoke , yeah.

Just a particle of 7 billion

My one  question to you is, Did he really mean?Did he mean to cause chronic sickness.

But I’ll be darn if I had to reap it.

It’s not a secret.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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