Fourteen, a bitter year.
Pulling me places.
Faces I couldn\'t trust.
Thick lines crossed.
Fifteen, blurred faces.
Floating to numb.
Screaming to be heard.
Black ice aesthetic my heart.
Throwing icicles to pierce hearts.
Sixteen walking on a line.
The rush exhilarating.
Until it wasn\'t.
Losing control.
Little fires everywhere.
But faces drawn in numbers.
Fleeing to see my face again.
Seventeen a mentor appears.
A face who understood me.
Showing me the power of the mind.
Showing me all that I am.
A piece returned to me. .
Eighteen an uneasy year.
Fighting spirals of chaos to come.
Health trapping me in a box.
Thirty one finally a year of triumph,
with more to come.