Poetry

Long ago I wasn't sure of anything but I did know about lines. They were just beginnings. They were the starting of an entire life.
Long ago they were just the beginnings of circles. Yes, when I was younger and didn't know much. They were just that: Lines.
I loved lines!
As I became older, I found out that I wasn't so confused on the meaning of these lines but long broom these lines had changed in meaning.
I met people that made my lines different, difficult.
When, I encountered these people, I began seeing through these dumb lines.
I began to run into those whose lines didn't have beginnings but endings.
I bumped into individuals who sought a line not to make things better but to destroy.
They wanted to make me believe that these lines hurt.
They wanted me to thank these lines for making me less.
They wanted me to know that I had no chance to anything.
Sometimes, I found myself trapped within their lines, their lies.
Sometimes, I stopped before crossing these lines.
Sometimes, I feared these lines.
Sometimes I didn't want to try.
But now, I want to prove that I was right.
These lines are not different or dumb: I have a chance to be.
These lines are strong: I am stronger.
These lines do not, in any chance, break us apart but build us strong as a whole.
I want to like lines.
I want them to be lines again.