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Change of Heart
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Personal (Hope) Maybe I’m in love with this feeling,
this pain that pierces
through my skin
and punctures my heart.
Though I try to heal the scars,
they turn to scabs
that are permanently etched on me.
I can blame everyone else,
but I know I do this to myself.
I’m destroying my own life,
killing myself slowly
by drinking in this bitter poison.
So I put down the bottle,
and bandage
these self-inflicted injuries.
I can carry my wounds
like a display of my weaknesses
or as a banner of
what I have overcome.
