I’m from
yelling,
arguments,
disagreements.

I can still hear it in my head,
“Clean up your toys!”
“Go to your room!”
“Suck it up right now and stop crying!”

I’m from
Cleaning,
fixing their problems,
being the middle man.

I can still feel it in my heart,
“It’s all your fault!”
“Tell your mother this; tell her that”
“Tell your father this; tell him that”

I come from custody hearings
and fallen promises.

“It will be better if you live with us half of the time, I promise,”
And 9 year old me believed it.

“I promise it will be better if you live with us all the time,”
11 year old me fell into the trap again.

I am from insults.
I am from tears.

I am from Sunday morning service,
alone.
The only Christian in my family.

I am
prayer,
positivity,
passion.

I keep on keeping on,
holding on for the ride.

I am part of a broken family
multiplied by 2.

I am from breaking—
I am from holding on too long.

I am from my past,
But I don’t have to live there anymore;
I don’t have to be the victim.

I am singing
to release the emotions.

I am the pent up tears cascading down cheeks.

I am holding on to hope,
hoping for the best.

I am praising in a time of trouble.
I am not losing faith.

I am breaking—
breaking free.