I dedicate this poem to the first person I trusted with my story. She knows the entire life of "the girl who doesn't say it all". To the person whom I run to...the one who understands...the one who has always been patient...To the person close to my heart, Ma'am MIRIAM ANNE F. SABOY.

The Omniscient Point of View: My Story

In my darkest hours,
Through the abyss of my hurts,
In the bottomless pit of nothing,
A cry from the clearing alerts.

I turned to see the intruder.
A blurry figure nears me;
In the corner of my mind
Lo,she looks with sympathy.

Anger shot through my veins.
I was shaken by one touch
Of her cold, damp hands
But I couldn't say much.

The tolerant words came out
One by one and to eleven.
She uttered the very words
I haven't heard back then.

I scrambled out of my shell;
I knew then and there
From the day she picked me up
Trust,to her I could share.