It was the kind of thing you say will never happen to you, the sort of thing that someone else goes through. It was a dream, and now a distant nightmare I try not to think about, but can’t help and play reruns of. Makes you want to listen to blues and drink wine until you can’t tell if you’re awake or alive. Had me screaming at mirrors like this stranger had something to do with my current conspiracy. Who the hell is this bitch messing with my pride? This little scared girl in the reflection who clearly doesn’t belong in my peripheral vision.
The hardest thing I’ve ever been through, like swallowing glass by verbal gun point, makes you wonder if the pain is worth it. All the scars remind you everyday of your life, is that living? One little bullet made of words could have taken all of that away, but I don’t know what’s out there. Woman with less than I, and more than I’ve dreamt of dealing with pull through it everyday. One of my greatest accomplishments and greatest downfalls all in the same short time period.
My heart might have been broken, but my soul was solid. In fact it was joyful, because I lived to tell about it, lived to bring my story to others, lived.