it's midnight and I"ll be bitter if I want to. I'm tired of empty railings. I want to hurt you. You are wrong. innocence may not have been my lot in life. many loose that battle. i'm outside a glass wall. and no one knows it.

thoughts from the successful child of a very broken home...

I am neither Danish nor Hatian. I am no ones. My father died a Swedish, Norwegian, Dane when the truth was told. he is gone. I know his family's name. I carry another. I know who they are. I don't know them. My sister never needed a sister. She has two. She needed a friend. That was me. Who am I? I am no ones. Don't talk to me about orphans! I am an orphan. I told my husband, 'I love you're family, I just thought I brought some too'. But in the end, they're all just tokens, empty currency.They can't be traded in for counting on. In the end they were meant to supplement the missing thing. re-placements... well, you can dream. But dreaming hurts. in the cold air between the stars and the moon you know the pain of overreaching and the stars don't look as good from above. I am no ones. I can be yours to stand beside. But first let me remember what I am missing. when there is no one to stand behind me. i am. alone.