In the depths of my being, where shadows merge with the light of the past
In the depths of my being, where shadows merge with the light of the past,
scars find their home like birds returning to their old nest,
carrying colors faded by time, from pure white to the gray of forgotten memories,
and pain, a whispered melody, becomes bearable, a constant echo of existence.
I have tried to tear them from the fabric of my soul, like strands of dried grass,
scratching with the nails of despair, in a frantic desire for freedom,
but they bled bright red, raw and alive,
like fresh moss born on the trunks of the evergreen forest.
I cannot beg them to leave, for they have become the mistresses of my silence,
looking upon me as a servant of the night, calling me to bleed to bring them home,
a girl willing to sacrifice her peace to embrace her wounds as old friends.
I try to escape, but they are no longer just on my skin,
they have sunk into me, like the roots of an ancient tree,
not just beneath the surface of my body, but in every corner of my soul.
So I allow them to stay,
to let each scar find its place in the sanctuary of my being,
accepting them as stories etched in the stone of time,
where each wound becomes a page in the magical book of my existence.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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