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