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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Autobiography in Fifty Words I was born from love, and love buried me alive, safety was a prison cell, support — a sweet knife, I was cherished like a fruit that no one should taste, and education grew me like a tree cut at the waist. Persuasion was honey with poison at the root, my presence burned in the classroom like a snuffed-out flame underfoot, assignments were soft chains that tightened without pain, and judgment — a cold sun that blossomed in the rain. Discouragement filled me up, the emptiness grew wide within, confusion was my roadmap, resentment — its origin, your absence was present like an echo ringing too loud, and deception — my most vibrant truth inside the crowd. I fell with grace into failure, failure lifted me higher, I ran from school into the world — the universe called me like fire, narcotics — nothing and everything flowing in the same stream, nowhere was my home, everywhere — the raw soil of a dream. Comfort tore me open, addiction woke me from sleep, everything that passed remained, everything that stays won't keep, disappointment — a flower blooming inside its own ash, disapproval — the light that burned through my window's latch. I ran from myself into myself, homeless and free, estrangement — a cold, warm, slow embrace, a fever in me, I understood that self-reliance is both a fall and a flight, employment — a gilded cage with the sky as its skylight. Coercion set me free from chains made of silk, tragedy cracked me open like a rose thorned to the hilt, loss — a weight that somehow grew wings on my back, and escape — the return to places that left no track. The calling came from silence like a thunder with no sound, determination — a thread of steel hammered into the ground, I traveled toward myself through worlds that didn't exist, and searched in every face for what the mirror missed. I explored with eyes shut wide through opaque fields of light, epiphany — a slow lightning bolt that never ends its flight, aspiration — a thirst that deepens every time you drink, freedom — the heaviest chain you wear right at the brink. Opportunity — a door standing alone in an open field, meaning found me when I'd stopped searching for what it concealed, purpose — the purest paradox: the tighter you hold, the more it slips, contrivance — the most honest truth that ever touched my lips. I provoked and was provoked by my own echo's call, I encouraged the light in those who had their backs against the wall, volition — the final word inside a sentence without sense, and everything I ever lived was one single verse, immense.
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