It’s difficult to comprehend that
this is the same skin that, a few years ago
frolicked around in bars, carelessly giving out kisses.

No fear.

Every scar carries more
ignorance,
my flesh, less young explains
the former stupidity I carried

Accompanied by confidence.

I was but a child, lost in the woods
unaware what dangerous animals lurk.

Even then, surprised by my own’s existence
Me still being here and
continuously breathing.

I was brave, but not brave enough.

The quick breaths during the
first attack.
I did not know they hit like a hammer, I
a hot blade

They were hardening fear.
Enormous, monstrous fear.

I was powerful and strong, every year
my height lowering, so that my
once clear voice turns into a
trembling
whisper.

An exhalation, kept alive by the ones
close enough to put their ear next to my
tickling lips.

What anger I contain.
How mutely I express it.

It was once powerful.
Erupted from my chest like
living fire,
burning the monsters far, far away from me.

Now it barely sparks when I’m reminded of
the long gone evil men
Mean, mean men who did mean things.

It’s not that I wasn’t fashioned to arrive at this point.

I was.

But the feet pressing onto my clay body did not help.

Now I’m dried and crooked.
My voice quiet, body
exhausted.

As I exhale smoke once more, I get inside
embrace my love and think:  


"**** it."