Basically a poem with my thoughts on growing up in a broken home. Growing up in an environment like that is different for each individual, this is just mine.
Devastation in life is inevitable, but our minds are the most powerful tool in existence due to how versatile and unexplainable it is, it's just too complex to even fully explain.
The Mistique of the days of the week. As each day passes and enters, they each have unique characteristics. This poem is a reminder of all the good in each day.
Everything in this universe is, well, universal. Up can only exist with down, left with right, front with foward