We were the wind ruffed feathers of a dying bird
We were the voice that everyone heard
We were the doors people kept slamming in the faces of strangers
We were the lies that stained your breath
We were the ones who wouldn’t tell the rest
We were the closed windows that kept opening
We kept opening
Like the pulse that ran though your paper-thin writs
We kept opening
We were the first rain after months of stifling heat
We were the heart that couldn’t skip a beat
We finally learned that flying was just pushing away the ground
Every time we said our name, we said it proud
We were the ones who carved harmonicas into our broken, open skeletons
We were the miles in between
We were the ones left unseen
We were the books left out in the rain
Broken words spilling off the soaked pages
We were the fire that was too bright
We used our words as weapons
We held shells to our ear in hopes of finding god
We were the bloodied knuckles of two years of fights
We pounded the drums in our chests
We were two-thirds passion and one-third pride
We folded origami lightning bugs and threw them to ignite the darkness
You made me want to write wrongs, instead of songs
We were the ones who didn’t know how to exhale
We were morning the sky when it was just too dark
We were the breeze through the sycamore trees
We were the sunrise born from so much beauty the earth cried when dusk came
We were the ones who had nothing
But we thought we had everything
We didn’t wonder if we were going to grow up to be happy