388
388 days since i,
for the last time, broke,
since i lost my way,
since the last time i was mistaken in what
i needed to do, should do.
388 days of hard work to
bury
my past under layers of dirt and effort
and sometimes make up to cover the scars.
now sometimes i can finally think that i'm
free,
free to soar and roam and get tangled up,
without being scared of my mind,
my hands,
my wrists,
scared of what might happen if i get too close
to my pain,
to my veins,
to my blood
that spills all too easily.
388 days,
and now all i have are memories
of teenage pain and shame
that fade quickly into the past,
because tomorrow will be
389.
for the last time, broke,
since i lost my way,
since the last time i was mistaken in what
i needed to do, should do.
388 days of hard work to
bury
my past under layers of dirt and effort
and sometimes make up to cover the scars.
now sometimes i can finally think that i'm
free,
free to soar and roam and get tangled up,
without being scared of my mind,
my hands,
my wrists,
scared of what might happen if i get too close
to my pain,
to my veins,
to my blood
that spills all too easily.
388 days,
and now all i have are memories
of teenage pain and shame
that fade quickly into the past,
because tomorrow will be
389.