Paper and a Pen

I'm that kid trapped in big rooms but with no room to grow. In my polluted dome, they cause full clutter hazards with nowhere to turn. My heart was broken and very painful because I didn't even have any idea why. I've become a lost soul resisting my destiny and afraid to trust. But something gives me confidence and makes me forget the pain whenever I pick up my childhood friend - paper and a pen.

At a young age, I was mute, with no freedom to speak or joke around. Yes, they fed me to be fattened around lions and get mauled anytime they wanted, leaving me confused and crying with questions of why. I lost everything in me: low self-esteem, shy kid, no confidence, struggling with my academics, and I couldn't even converse properly with friends. But with my childhood friend — a paper with a pen, I can write make-believe and it makes me happy.

These wounds are closed but still painful. I'm using guitar strings to tighten some leakage perhaps. I would love to make a happy song, but my eyes keep crying with bloody music notes. My existence is a blind eye with a longer bond; still, to them, it's an unfamiliar scream. The choice is to sleep and get lost. Anyway, they didn't care that I needed help.

I forgive them, I know I have, but to still be associated with the rodeo show, that I can no longer comprehend. I don't wanna be tied up in their head as a joke anymore. I'm a bull and I know I'm strong, but having a good day and getting stabbed with a spear will not stop the pain, and this trouble could lead to my end, but I'm not done here. I know my childhood friend will always be there for me.

Family is related by blood, but I'm stepping out from nightmares and keeping my blood to write with my paper and a pen. I know it's not going to be that easy, I'm like an army vet who gets triggered with PTSD easily when something is said to me that I didn't like, and a flashback of my traumatic childhood plays back in front of my face. But I'm no longer a little kid and have a family of my own, I know that I can face this battle to love myself more, so I can love the family I have even better as they deserve to be loved.

— I’m wounded and still have a leakage of blood coming out of me. I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on, but the only choice I see is to use this blood to write and help me, and hoping to heal me for good.

- I'm Ambidextrous, Wounded Music Warrior.

+Danncross One+.