There was a softness in me,
coveted, beloved,
my soul and body filled with rot
a decaying, spreading decomposition,
an instability I could not hide.
the putrefaction showed in every word I spoke.
it spoke of weakness and vulnerability.
In order to survive, I ravaged myself,
tore out every mailable piece,
and cut away my roots,
I removed myself from the soil which had so corrupted,
and now I grow, missing pieces and hollowed out,
but I am still here,
and I am no longer soft,
but instead I am withstanding and hardened