I am cold, not wanting to forget it.
I am tired, not wanting to admit it.
I am used, not wanting to remember.
I am done, but life goes on forever.
I’m afraid, crippled by reality.
I’m wounded, a war-ravaged city.
I’m controlled, no one’s but my own.
I’ve begun, but I’m all alone.
I’m in pain, but lies disguise the truth.
I’m trouble, as foolish as my youth.
I’m a fool, but have chosen nothing better.
I am dead, smoking gun and scribbled letter.
I’m bitter, not wanting to forgive them.
I deny, but shame is still my anthem.
I’m guilty, but humility is weakness.
I am lost, but love this wilderness.
I worry, but nothing will improve.
I’m stubborn, my pride won’t let me move.
I chose this, but how do I unchoose?
I would win, if I knew how not to lose.
I give up, no reason to go on.
I am new, the old ‘myself’ is gone.
I’m redeemed, I know now why I’m here.
I’m broken but fixed, beauty from fear.