I have to allow myself to admit that I’m broken in order to start healing. And I’m broken. Now relative to where I was, I have come miles, but where I was was spiritually dead.

I’m sure it’s not my time to die

Because there’s growing left to do.

If I had stagnated, perhaps so,

But whatever God wills, be true.

I cry more these days than I ever have.

My heart is on my sleeve.

My mom says I get it from her.

That, I can believe.

I learned to love from her

And how to hate

From my dad.

I’ve let go of the latter.

But the scars I still have.