looking back at my previous poems
published, deleted, drafts...
its become clear that i have forgotten part of my identity,
who i was before i left my poems in the dust.
observing the transformations in my words
reminds me of the words of my inner saboteur.

I remember the person who supported my writings,
my thoughts, my feelings...
someone on the other side
who wanted me not to succumb
but to compose and understand
why I felt such sorrow each day.

re-entering my world of poems,
the emotions i archived reflect
periods of my life.
One day i hope to recognize
the impact i made on myself
and the progress that has been achieved
throughout my year of words.