Lonesome Past

Growing up with my grandparents wasn’t so great, Having to hold onto so much weight. While my mother was “at school”, And my father acting like a fool, I only hoped someone could open the gates. At some point my mother came back, But there was something that I lack. When I tried to let out my voice, She saw it only as noise, And in return she gave me a smack. She forced me to move out of the house, I was running around like a mouse. Burning plant was used to let herself loose, Alcohol was her form of abuse, The pillows were quickly douse. My father quickly came and picked me up, However, I was still down in the dumps. After the therapies and baker-act, I was still abstract. Taking anti-depressants with water in a cup. That’s when I began to write letters. And slowly but surely I got much better, It helped me let out stress, Just as much as playing chess, Happiness engulfed me like a sweater. Now I have exceeded everyone’s expectations, As they stop and stare at my creations. They said I wouldn’t make it anywhere, But now they’re the ones who glare. A celebration across the nation.