Shattered Residue: Poetry

I was born in jail but that was just the beginning. I was going through unbearable things for the young age that I was. Feeling like my legs would give out from under me every step I made. Collecting the thoughts from my head with each side walk I walked, stopping at each street I crossed; because at the cross walk, we're taught from a young age to look both ways, that thought instinctively took over until I was safely across the street. I overcame obstacles that I thought would surely be what defeated me. During that, there was never an "Are you okay?", "Whats going on with you?" , "Can I come see you?" , "Is there something I can do?" , "So I heard one side, whats yours?" While I was screaming in my head, "I AM NOT OKAY! WHAT CAN BE DONE?! IS EVERYONE COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS TO THIS PAIN OR HAVE I HIDDEN IT TOO WELL?" There was never a benefit of the doubt given, never some one to realize the difference between me doing okay and genuinely feeling okay. Never someone to help out if my environment was not conducive for my growth. No blanket of protection for me to be swaddled in. No way out of the Administration for Children Services (ACS) or the system. I've always had good intentions, even if my actions weren't agreed with, they were always justifiable. I was not selfish with love, time or care BUT that's what you get when you think you can save the world. You only end up more broken.