Writing My Path

Words dance around, filled with more life than myself. Stringing chapters together, forging books on my shelf.

They connect with others while I lay numb and alone. Lost in my madness, my feelings have flown.

I bleed onto paper, all that haunts me. Hope kisses my hands, as I set my pain free.

Put into words, arranged in a story, I pour my heart out, with no sense of glory.

I'll write and I'll write, exposing my wounds, eyeing light on horizon, which I hope to reach soon.

In a grey land, I exist to heal, but I've stopped feeling, for the pain is too real.

From one rape to twenty, I've completely lost count, not caring to track, as my life I dismount.

How the hell did I get here, so isolated? Healing comes at a cost, so connections I've traded.

Seeking inner peace, a soul light and free. The path to get there, like surgery.

Cutting away parts that are poisoned, mending old wounds, and breaking old trends.

Life ahead is filled with colour, lighting the darkness that aims to smother.

So here are my words, leading a trail, to a brighter future, I will prevail.