Suppose I am grateful for pain?
I picture my influencer,
And instead of a warm hug,
Or a friendly hand on my shoulder,
Or smiling lips saying “I’m proud,”
I see a blade at my wrist.
I don’t feel sorry for myself,
Try to cover up the marks I create
Or pretend to be completely whole.
I’ve learned from my mistakes,
Realized that sorrow has toughened me
And strengthened my pitiful heart
To the point where it longs for life
Instead of bloody bathwater.
Am I grateful for pain?
My one companion throughout adolescence
And even childhood.
How I knew at such a young age
What being empty felt like
Is beyond me now.
Perhaps loneliness is just an opportunity to reach out.
Scars are another way to confide in each other.
Heartbreak is a step in the path to true love.
Grief, failure, and misery allow for empathy
And human connection.
Maybe I am grateful for pain.
It flows through my blood
And is etched into my skin.
It strengthens me, humanizes me,
Keeps me alive.
And after all,
It is the only thing that will be with me until the grave.