3 Years: Healing Not Healed
It was a journey, through pebbles and flame, a self-discovery, a purposeful game, Three years I wandered in the wilderness of my soul, building bridges, filling an echoing hole. Every day a step closer to the surface so bright, guided by the stars, reflecting their light, A healing process, painstakingly real, each morning, a little closer to being healed. I chronicled the voyage in words spun with gold, a hundred poems, courageously bold, Each verse, a stitch on the tapestry of my heart, mending the pieces torn apart. Written on the canvas of sorrow, yet gleaming with hope, they were my lifelines, my survival rope. A hundred healing hymns, each one a pearl, my testament to the resilience of a girl. Through stormy seas and calm spring days, I danced with shadows and chased sunrays. In every poem's rhythm, every rhyme, I found strength, in my own time. Oh, the lessons I've learned, the wisdom so deep, from the heart-wrenching abyss, so steep. Three years of healing, of growth, of rebirth, I've found my footing, my place on earth.
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