When I was six The world revolved around me Or so I thought And that was all that mattered. Fat, fuzzy worms Plucked off of leaves Soft, warm kittens Stolen from their mothers' care Everything was mine for the taking So I took. I was selfish at six. When I was twelve My life erupted into a living nightmare. One moment, a happy child, But in the blink of an eye, All of that changed permanently. The illusion shattered And it became just that-- an illusion... of happiness, of comfort, of normality. Confusion, disorientation, and terror Were to be my companions that year. But I was tenacious at twelve. When I reached eighteen Once more I was flying high Ready to embark on the next leg of my journey And to finally put behind me The gaps that had appeared In an otherwise stellar mind. Sadly, I will never write my memoirs There is too much missing Too many rememberances that evolved out of hear-say because they disappeared from my memory. But I was on the road to creating new memories And I was exuberant at eighteen. Now I am twenty-four. Divorce and surgery have been my bed-fellows, As have graduation and employment. All of which have culminated in discovery. For every down There is an equal up As long as you are willing to hold on tightly During the plunge. I am living at twenty-four.Birth sign: Not entered
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