L.I.F.E Poem by Dakota Ellerton

If you were told,
to write your life in a poem,
could you really summon the words?
Where do you start?
The night a man and a woman came together,
through their actions you were created.
No, that's much too far back.
I'd start, with the death of my grandmother.
She was the Grace of this world.
A saint in her own, a savior.
She loved, and she cherished in her life.
She cared for my sister and I,
she watched over Sarah like her own.
When she died,
so did the biggest part of my sister.
So did a part of everyone.
It left my parents in tears,
my father, who tried so hard to get her approval once, wept.
As he took my mother in his arms,
he told her to cry.
I'd never seen a family fall so apart.
My world had already started months before.
As my grandmothers suffering went on,
I had my own battles to fight.
Her death,
was the first of many.
Have you been through a life,
where cruel words become your background noise?
A time when they were all you'd hear?
I was never one of those girls,
never really a girl at all.
Leaving marks on my arm didn't help me fit in,
my solitary attitude iscolated me.
I had friends, but did they really even know me then?
Do they really know me now?
Probably not.
I wasn't much of a people person then,
right into highschool.
I'd met some girls, whom I'd talk with,
but we were never close.
Through the fate of the timeline,
Alyssa and I decided school was not our path.
The harsh words were all we heard then.
The cruel stares and pointing fingers,
the cold shoulders.
We believed we were not like them at all,
we believed we were not judgmental.
The way things had gone,
would suggest otherwise.
The hatred for my mother,
and the rebellion in my heart,
caused a war.
My sexuality transitioned,
my heart grew a new.
I'd met a boy in highschool,
who went on to be my first real love.
Even to this day.
Many things were changing,
and it wasn't far into the year,
that my first serious overdose occured.
I rebelled on their antidepressants.
I'd not enjoyed doing as I was told.
And the result, was futile.
I brought down my fathers world,
as i was all he had left.
It wasn't long after,
that my father passed away.
I remember seeing his lifeless body,
his eyes piercing back at me.
Blood, tubes, a nightmare.
We never got to talk again.
I'd become to vulnerable,
and a malicious girl took advantage.
I was not ready,
and she did not care.
I became timid,
I became quiet.
There were things you just did not speak of then.
Through the lies, and secrecy,
through the sleepless nights, and endless fights,
I finally pulled away.
Life pulled me back into the arms of the person I'd loved first.
Though as fate had it,
he'd broken my heart just the same.
Overlapping the wounds already on it.
I'd never felt a pain so hard,
never lost control so quickly.
And with that, I took many trips to the hospital.
I'd hoped he realized what he'd done,
but I truely don't think he did.
With such events I brought my family down with me.
Into an empty despair of blackness.