I was barely eleven when I was hit by my first shot
The air was warm, but my father’s words were not
"Are you ready to talk about it?"
Unfailingly clear and unfailingly crude
So I answered "no" even when I could have said "yes"
Because I’ve always run away from the truth
I choose flight over fight every single time
And I'm still trying to figure out if that has saved me or has ruined me
He never actually left us, but sometimes I wonder
How much better that would have been

We were near the beach the night my mother said
That she loved all her children equally 
But that she couldn't force them to love her back
I still remember the sand and I still remember the salt
Yet I pretend I forgot my older sister’s cries
When she was trying to defend me
The scars from that day have started to fade
Thanks to surgery rooms and a sense of shame
But when she stares at me for too long
I know she still feels the same

I don't like sweets but I wish I did
So I could sugarcoat our own decay
"Don't you feel like the protagonist of your own story?”
I remained in your arms when I heard you say
Neglected words that meant no harm
Although they kept me awake until the break of dawn
But don’t you worry honey, I understand
Protagonist are brave and I'm nothing but afraid
I'm afraid of dying and I'm afraid of living
All I did this year was survive and that's okay
Blooming season is just delayed