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A tear rolls down my cheek as I stare
at the mistakes running down my wrists.
In every direction, they sit there, mocking me;
laughing at me, shunning me.
but at the same time, begging me to come back.
Sometimes I think of returning, but I can’t.
Physical ability is not the problem,
it is mental stability that concerns me.
If I were to return to my old ways
I would break, crack down the center
like a ceramic pot burning in the kiln.
As I reflect on my most regrettable decisions
I think of how life used to be
how I didn’t care, how I cared too much.
I think of the way I used to cry out,
run outside and scream at the heavens above!
Asking and pleading with God to set me free,
to take me away. Over time, I got tired of waiting, I tried
to set myself free and so close was I to accomplishing that;
I was petrified as I held the gleaming blade in one hand.
The blade, that at one time reflected
my tear-streamed face, but now only shone dismally
when covered by the fears and tribulations
of everything that I had taken on.
After that night, I struggled to protect myself from myself.
it took so long, and I fought so hard to rise above these
once overpowering feelings.
Now it seems like that life was so long ago,
and it was. So much has changed, or has it?
Yes, I am no longer who I once was;
the withdrawn and pessimistic attitudes I had toward
everyone, have developed into something more
something better, something more powerful.
I have grown to love my faults, to accept y mistakes
to tolerate the ignorance of people around me.
Very few understood, and would question the
cries for help that perched so neatly on my wrists.
I was once ashamed of them, but now
I wear them with pride,
no not pride, acceptance.
So now, no tears toll down my cheeks as I
stare at my mistakes. Now I smile and say, “I am better.”