Sitting Alone,

On a thin line.

Invisible to the rest,

But visible to self.

Somewhere between unlimited pain,

And unlimited Love,

We remain.

Stubborn,

Unwilling to relive the past.

For the pain still exists.

Step back,

Step forward.

Gathering tools,

Letting them go.

Digging up pain and suffering,

Sitting with its medicine.

Recounting,

Reliving,

Just sitting.

Unwilling to hide imperfections,

Accepting a crooked path,

Scatter brained and all.

Sit with the pain,

Acknowledging its medicine.

Making a choice,

To follow another..

Or following ones own heart.

Bleeding out,

Leaving a trail.

Creating a false reality,

Hiding what remains.

This is me,

This is who I am.

Broken,

Alone,

No longer.

Leaving the broken pieces behind,

Or walking with medicine of a broken past.

This is me,

This is who I am.

Alone,

And Raw.

Emptying my own cup.

Filled with truth,

Picking up the pieces.

Broken,

Afraid,

I am whole once again.

Stepping into the Canvas leaving a trail. Not for any one person to follow but for self to recount the steps taken amidst the Canvas…