Every year, I'd meet a people
with features so divine.
With stormy eyes and narrow lips,
their faces looked like mine.
Their skin held no wrinkles;
never touched by time.
But they revealed ages
and mirrored every crime.
They called me self-centered
when I heard my grandfather died.
I told them, "Do not call me selfish.
"That was when I learned to say goodbye."
They said that I was heartless
for leaving old friends behind.
I said, "It hurt me in my heart,
but I was seeking peace of mind."
They told me I was fickle
for slamming all the doors.
I cried out, "I was never angry,
"I just needed to make some noise."
I grew tired of their questions.
How could they not see?
I'd never done any wrong.
I was only learning to be me.
These people were never real
but they remind me each year
that there was growth in my struggles
and strength in every tear.
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