I was quiet but not blind I was slow but wise For I knew everyone around me and I studied them I had random outburst of anger that I could not control some days but I tried my best to be kind for I was not made for school And I know it’s gonna sound corny, conceited, portraying i’m saying I’m too cool But I’ve only ever dreamt of becoming a real poet I wanna write books in my bedroom I wanna go on walks and see the birds fly I wanna travel with them I wanna be able to pick up everything and leave at random attached to nothing but still know my identity to feel the freedom of truly being free for the world to accept me i want to be a real poet move to a quiet city in Colorado study the trees instead of people notice the direction the wind blows not even needing to go home just write sit beneath the cliché cottonwood trees i tell story’s about just breathe feel the exhales release my insecurities nature doesn’t care about beauty it has beauty within its self feel each rain drop on my skin thank god i’m alive thank god one day when im 35 ill be publishing books with a husband by my side and everyone who rooted for me or prayed against my demise will realize that i have gotten over suicide and my mother will realize that she was never a mom and there was a reason why we never got along I knew who I was from a very young age and she had no clue she was 45 still hitting the weed she would hide under her sink unable to complete the simple task of love so she ran from it she never grew but she is my muse so for that i’ll thank her for each cut scrape and bruise i’ll thank my mother for giving me the cottonwood tree to look up too