Twenty years ago today,
I had my first suicidal thought,
as a nine year old child,
It's crazy how at such a young age,
our worlds can grow so dark.

Childhood stripped and forced to grow,
Into a world of pain I was yet to know,
would surpass time into a world of years of solitude,
that would eventually dim my glow.

Broken to pieces as a child,
now forever trapped within the thoughts in my mind,
Darkness.

Pain surrounding year after year,
along with those thoughts relentlessly,
until the day I tried.
It was the only thing that made me feel alive,
when all I was,
was dead inside.

I was belittled by many for only seeking attention,
but by that time I was already drinking to drown those thoughts out.
noone could understand the amount of tribulation I was going through,
let alone try to figure me out.

Instead, I figured myself out the day I came across your poetry,
and understood the power of words,
It took some time to get the thoughts in my head right,
But I grew older and strong enough,
to hold my pen as my sword.

My armor is damaged,
but the scars show I fought,
and I use my words to connect with others,
who because of their own pain,
in themselves they doubt.

You were the beginning of my darkness,
that led me to seek my own light,
and because I walked off that battlefield, and though I may appear intact,
I shed my own blood on paper,
for those who want to give up their fight,
or are lost on the journey of finding their own light.

Love you mom, thank you. Lost and found without you.
11/26/01
© Nick Wallace