I Am More
I am more than scarred flesh,
and spirit.
I am more than the memories of his pugnacious tone,
and invective words.
I am more than my poor choices,
more than the flashbacks tearing at my soul.
I am more than just a victim,
more than my own malefaction.
I am more than the agony,
and desolation of being misunderstood,
I am more than all assumptions,
more than judgement.
I am more than a truant friend,
more than the maltreated.
I am more than the rejected one,
the disappointed one.
I am more than what you think I am,
or who you think I should be.
I am a woman. A mother. A wife.
I am a survivor. A giver. A taker.
A smiling face.
I am a solitary tear, hanging on for dear life.
I am a mystery.
I am imperfect. Broken.
But there is even more to me.
More than even I know.
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