I come from a broken marriages, older brothers
and free time. I come from a parent who was never there,
and a parent who was always stressed.
I come from quiet nights lost in thought, from long days
living through war, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes,
toys that were left on shelfs.
I come from falling out of trees and snowball fights,
from always arguing about what is right, from love
and protection, from not showing any emotion.
I come from broken trust and broken bonds.
I come from sleepless nights and never forgetting
to turn off the lights, from a broken home.
Some things are best not to be known.
Although it’s large and dysfunctional,
family is what I call home.
Written by Natasha, age 13, as part of Youth Word Up 2017