formed in the womb, an individual born into the world, a tiny miracle. green eyes like my father and brown hair like my mother, her addiction and anxiety too, that my pale skin covers.
moulded by trauma and chiseled by pain, so different from that miracle except for the name. my form cracked by life and buckled under pressure; a fuse waiting to blow and drugs are the stresser.
desperate to reform, to grow flowers in the cracks, a desire to be reborn and forge new tracks. one day at a time, the courage to rebuild, I am taking on a new form and my soul is fulfilled.