Breaking Births

When I was born into the body of a baby,
in the four white-washed walls of a hospital,
I was born into a family passioned by abuse,
born into a world thriving on wages of war
weighing on innocent lives.
I was born into the undeveloped good and evil of myself.

When I was born into the body of a toddler,
I was born into a longing to read and be read to.
Born into escaping an adult's alcoholism and a parent's neglect
by tossing rhymes around with Dr. Seuss.
Born into hide-and-seek games that hid me from the boogey man of my father.
Born into having Toby, my puppy, and stuffed animals as substitute best-friends.

When I was born into the body of a child,
I was born into a soccer player, a miniature Mia Hamm.
I was born into blinding,
censoring the faults of those around me and my self:
focusing on everyone's good, learning how to subtract their evils.
Born into projecting my brothers and me into a new family.
Or two
or three.

When I was born into the body of a teenager,
the blinders had long since departed
to save some other innocent child from the shameful letdowns of life.
Born into following the lessons taught to me by five teachers nicknamed brothers.
All while hollowing my own way out of the depths of depression.
Born into tempting myself with crisses and crosses
and other doses of self-medication.
Born into a bothersome girl where trust is non-existant
and mental illness is apparently prevalent.
At 16 years old,
I was born into another hospital minus the white-washed walls,
replaced with numerous restrictions,
for two months of my life.
Pushed out of the pointlessness of reality
and into a mini collage of potentially, suicidal fragments of strayed people.

When I was reborn into the body of a young adult,
I was born into the realms of perspective
and realizing life could be worse.
Never having the patterned life people tend to puzzle themselves into
no longer is an excuse for unhappiness.
Born away from letting milligrams of their prescribed medication
etch a livable existance.
Born into a life of creative reflection and progression:
living on and in music,
placing laughter in someone's smile,
the shine in anyone's eyes,
ignoring imperfections and improving anything from everything.

When I am born into the body of an adult,
hopefully a concrete identity will emerge.
Maybe one day,
when I am done playing dress-up with images,
I will find one to define
and help future generations
be born again without restraints.
But mostly without unhappiness.

When I am born into the body of an elder,
I hope I am born into the person I can be proud of
and then, one day, be born into an afterlife where lessons carry over.

Everyone accepts one another the next time I am born.

Student Turns Teacher

It's not my job to find yourself
before you throw us all away.
Love should be void of explanantion:
it's a feeling, not a test
to see who comes out on top
or knows each other best.
Because I am sure of the way you make me feel
and how your smile creeps up on my face.
Leave out all the specifics your quizzing
because they are way too common place.
Truth be told: you are still gripping another girl's hand,
comparing my grades to her,
and that's not how our relationship can stand.
Don't blame me for the chain you can not detangle
I've tried to unknot the knots.
I'm still here screaming
"Who you want at the other end is not necessarily who is."
The hurt you're projecting she once taught you.
Being your pupil had its up and downs
but now the graduate has some lessons to throw back.