I sit and I stare into the mirror at my chest.
The scar numbs my body like a blow to the head.
My first day back into the real world
And all my friends are going to wonder, “What happened to that girl?”
I use to be full of life and I had a heart full of love.
Now all I have are pain meds and showing I am tough.
My coach sits me down and asks me if I can play.
I told him to give that scholarship away.
Every thing I had worked for up to this point has been some sick joke that I worked on too long.
I am put to sleep and woken with a machine in my chest.
They claimed they fixed my heart but it feels more like they broke it instead.
Will every one I encounter feel sorry for me?
Lord knows pity is the last thing I need.
I am tough. I am strong. I will carry on.
This set back has made me sit back and question life.
Is it too late? Have I put up a good enough fight?
I will not allow others to see me as a machine.
I am beautiful. I am broken. But I am me.
I look at the important things that I have never been able to see.
I focus on school and getting a degree.
Maybe life has a funny way of showing us our destiny.
Once, I was a patient with no desires or dreams.
Today, I am graduating and on my way to help others in need.
I deserve respect because of what I have been through.
I am courageous because I jumped through the flaming hoops.
The scars on my body are battle wounds I accept.
If society doesn’t approve, then what the heck?!
Not everyone has a story written on their chest.