I wasn’t born,
I was burned into being —
flames in the cradle,
no soft start,
just screaming.
Built from bruises
and secondhand light,
I learned how to shine
just enough
to survive the night.
Don’t ask where I’m from —
I come from the cracks.
From what’s left behind
when the world turns its back.
I’m not a story
they’d teach in a school,
I’m the footnote,
the fight,
the exception to rules.
©manyfaces
M