My esoteric savior
Lies in deconstructing changes in behavior
The paragraphs on paper
A written admission of fault
Seeking self-forgiveness in an erasure
Through stanzas I've found expression of pain
To be the closest I've came
To personal fulfillment
Self-prognosis deemed healthy in moderation
Does the subtext of my honesty
Hold a chance at consecration?
When a new bruise swells,
My journal calls for me to facilitate
The facets of me I've been afraid to face
Bound in leather, the deep secrets encased
Further peruse the melancholy I understate
My adversity
Has become synonymous
With my identity
What am I without the story
Behind this greenstick fracture psyche?
And I'm ashamed
Knowing my greatest trick
To fruitful creation
Is reminding myself that I'm sick
Progression and remedy
Or premeditated torture?
Writing to remind myself
Of the ache's importance?
Progression and remedy
Or premeditated torture
Writing to remind myself
Of the ache's importance?
This double-edged repetition
Keeps me feeling human
I'm grateful for an outlet
But as with past habits
I've become so invested
That I can't cope without it
The thought of not needing
One someday
Sounds promising
But it's hard to imagine
A healthy version of me
Between now and then,
I'm unsure what will happen
I'm writing to see