How Can I Write A Poem About Myself Novels & Stories

First line, I’m still on fire, but today I’m choosing which parts of me burn. I wrote until my hand cramped. Ugly words, beautiful words, truths I’d never said out loud. I wrote about Adrian’s hands, Mom’s laugh, the way love and poison taste the same sometimes. I wrote until the sky outside turned orange and the house smelled like tea and ink and cold air. Then I closed the notebook, pressed it to my chest, and whispered to the empty room. “This is still my house. This is still my body. This is still my life.”

I guess I can't judge him right now because I don't know him at all. *** "Hey, Lizzy!" I open my eyes and see Soul at the end of my bed with a tray filled with food. My mouth waters at the sight and smell of the pancakes. I quickly sit up carefully and dig into my meal. I've been in bed for about four hours now, writing poems. My father wrote my mama a poem when she died. That's what got me started. Poems let you express your true feelings, but in a way that is so...unique. I wrote my poems ALOT when the abuse got worse through my teenage years. I used to cut myself, I used to totally hate myself. But as I got older I realized how everything I believed about myself was a lie. Caroline wanted