Grandma looked at me and said, "Baby, I'm not the best, I'm not the worst, but I'm somebody." It was the straw to break the camels back. It was tragedy. It was the final hour, and the first. It was the undoing of all my walls. It was, and continues to be this push and pull. It was repentance, it was laments, it was anger, love, all the emotions, and more. Sometimes it just was, and there was no understanding to it, only until I went back. It continues to be recursive, never ending. I have to believe it was all for a reason. I felt lead to share because maybe just maybe, one person could find comfort and relate to the words. With that connection, maybe one person will make a different decision than the one that changed the course of my life forever... Or in short words, here are 213 poetic looks into the window of my soul.
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