Catharsis

It must’ve been the decorations that made me feel so dirty,

Or maybe it was the premature death,

Perhaps it was the body I couldn’t connect to,

I used to long for a beginning away from my past,

But what-if’s are a train running without tracks,

So my hands ran thick with my heart,

Catharsis only found in a written kind of art.

I hope that my version of young is different than yours,

Nothing was simple,

I could not be free,

The hand on my arm and then my head thrown on the wall,

Spoke for us both,

It was not even symbiosis,

Both parties were trapped,

Swollen with shame,

Without another place to go,

Shame was the fuel,

There was a lot lost in that place,

Back then, there was a price for everything.

I used to wonder if this foundation was terminal,

If I would live out all my days,

Haunted,

But pen on paper brought clarity,

Sound footing for a future,

It has given me stability,

A place for the outpouring of my heart,

I have learned vulnerability,

I have found truth written in ink,

All along,

Peace was only sleeping in my heart.