This layer is stuck on me.
Like old mud that won’t wash away.
Reminding me of my past.
My mistakes.
My wounds.

The harder I rub the deeper it gets.
A part of me.
When all I want is for it to be gone.  

Then one day I realize:
It is part of me and that’s ok.
This layer, these scars
They show me how far I’ve come.
Not reminders of shame,
Signs of hope. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s