Making Friends with My Ghosts

Fri, 03/06/2015 - 14:38 -- annah21

If you stepped inside my mind,

Through my staring brown eyes,

You would see the filter fall.

 

When I look inside my mind, I see the clutter, the disorder, and the beauty of all that I have become.

 

I walk around and even after all this time, I bump my hips on the edges of things I would rather forget.

 

I trip over the clutter that’s taking a little longer to organize, the things that are harder to shove in a drawer and move away from.

 

Walking through my head, I see the memories projected all around me.

 

There were times when I was a wolf; fearless, unapproachable, queen of my domain

 

And other times where I hid myself, where I closed my mouth, bowed down, hid my teeth behind a mask of what I am not.

 

I walk through the sunny memories where I was untouchable, beaming; a vision of what is right and pure.

 

Then I find myself in the chilly shadows of where things went wrong.

 

I brush my fingers along the walls of the room where I thought I had lost it all,

 

But little did I know that this was the place where I was born,

 

Out of fire, out of pain, out of the things that most people would avert their eyes from,

 

I found my strength and I found myself.

 

Slowly I am finding the balance between feeling and forgetting.

 

I’ve learned that it’s okay to take time to get better.

 

I’ve found where I’m supposed to be,

 

Running with the wolves, free, unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with.

 

I’ve made my home in my unfinished mind,

 

Where I take off my shoes and hang my hat

 

On the threshold of an unfiltered me.

This poem is about: 
Me

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