The Year I Came Home To Myself

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.