Sam Who?
The life of a survivor, a warrior and a poet.
A Survivor is born.
I grew up without a father. It wasn't really his fault. He was a war veteran. And we all know how war can mess with your head. He came home damaged. It was too much for my mom to handle. He worked at a paper mill. He would take uppers to wake up, and downers to go to sleep. He could be found walking the streets at night, always restless. I had three brothers and by the time I was born, he was gone. He worked downtown at a gas station and lived at the YMCA. He died when I was 9. I never knew him. I never knew what a relationship with the father figure was supposed to be like. This made me easy prey. By the time I was five years old I was broken. My ideas of what little girls were supposed to do was all askew. 40 years of reckless abandon, and seven years of therapy later, I was on the road to healing. Life is still hard. I write a lot of poetry and watch a lot of Grey's Anatomy, *weak smile* and I process my pain. Here I will share some of the poetry with you, and probably some of the pain.
Welcome to my Mental Mosh-pit!!
