Times were hard, they were tough.

I had turned to thinks the were distructive to help with the hurt.

More often than not it just made it worse.

I was young.

I was afraid.

I was alone.

I entered my class, and the teacher started dissucssing poems.

She shared with us hers from when she just a young kid like the rest of us.

They spoke of her hurt

Her fear

Her lost hope

Her depression

What she did to cope

Her struggles sounded much like my own.

I realized that this woman I admired so much. 

This successful, beautiful, smart, and kind woman was once like me.

Young.

Afraid.

Alone.

She spoke of how poetry helped her express her self, an oulet, she had freedom in her words.

Young me thought I can do this as well.

So I did. 

That teacher showed  me how to not feel so afraid and alone.

She gave me the tools I needed to pick myself back up.

So I did.

From that day forward whenever I was bothered, I'd pick up a pen and write my feelings down in a poem.

 

Now I'm not as young.

I'm not afraid.

and I'm not alone.

All I have to thank is my English teacher and her poems.