• The whole idea of it makes me feel
    Like I was dumped out of a barren wasteland
    And into some place I didn’t recognize
    A place of sadness and grief
    Of joy and happiness
    Of belief and disbelief

    Today, I look at myself
    Reflected in the mirror
    My year of eight
    I am both happy
    Yet sad
    I am leaving the place
    I once called “home”

    Little doodles taped to the fridge
    From my year of four
    Scraped knees at five
    A new mother at six
    My best friend leaving me at seven

    A new year has started
    Will it be better?
    I do not know
    I watched the fading building
    With scrunched up brows
    But also a smile

    No more painful memories
    No mother to come and see
    If I am hers to keep
    Or dogs biting at my feet
    Then I look
    At the winding road ahead
    And so begins my year of eight