Spread Your Wings

I was told over and over when I was an innocent four years old, "Spread your wings, child!" By the man I loved most, my Grandfather was inspirational. He was the one that thought me how to read and write. My parents were never there for me, they were often tipsy, Smashing the bottles upon the floor and sometimes upon me. When this happened, my Grandfather was always there to heal my soul, And he would always say "Spread your wings, child!" My parents were later found dead, overdosed on the latest drugs. Even the cruelest people deserved sympathy, I thought as I cried. They did bring me into this world, even if it was an accident, So I simply moved along with their memories. My Grandfather was a strong man as he battled a fierce war of cancer, His last words were "Spread your wings, child...." I screamed until my throat was sore, for I had no one else to love, no one, Was this what the world had to offer a ten year old? Now, a twelve year old, I have found a sweet family of my own, A mother that could not have children and left lonely because of it, She smiled and held me tightly when I first saw her. Now I have someone to love. Now, we sing and dance, sit around reading "Oliver Twist," With her teasing me and telling me I look like the protagonist, it's true though, Sometimes on the warm summer nights, we'll watch the stars wink. Now, I've spread my wings wide open! Everything I have told you is true :) How could I lie? That wouldn't be right! It's time you got to know me, this poem is my life, reader! In memory of Oliver Kirkland, my dear Grandfather