Everybody said I was sorry too much,
And honestly, I was.
So I’d say sorry for being sorry,
And for bumping into them,
And being tired,
And staying home too much,
And taking up space.
In truth, I was sorry.
So sorry for existing and getting in the way.
Then one day I was holding his hand
And brushing his thumb tenderly.
In that moment, I realized
I wasn’t just sorry to them but to myself.
Sorry I couldn’t love and be kind to me
Like I was to him.
Couldn’t smile when the sun kissed my face
Or feel alive when I woke up in the morning.
The truth is, I am sorry too much;
I’m sorry to me.