finding ones self
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It was a myth that held me back,
a stubborn kid, ready to be "mature".
Forget Doctor Seuss, I wanted to go Wilde.
I wanted to paint a picture, not say
Trees are green,
Noiseless voices in my head Asking, begging to be let free. Harshing breathing, Trembling hands, A small cry seeking help. Angry shouts, Loud words, Rumbling floors. Dark clouds blur my sight, Fear searches for the light. Years go by,
