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.