Can I write it all? … Even a life of scars.
Showing a sky not full of stars. A life that starts after a pause.
I see the child I used to be. A child that seems to flee from me.
A past I once could see. Is now a blessed blur to me.
A vision I see through tears. Real tears, from real fears.
So much to run from.
Until one day I said I was done.
I killed the child I once was. Rejecting all that I came from.
And here I stand, the standing end.
Pen in hand, I finally begin.