I stand in a dark room,
empty and alone,
ashamed and hurt,
filthy and unclean,
a receptacle for all garbage.

I sit against a cold wall,
drowning in my thoughts,
drowning in my pain,
drowning in mire and filth,
drowning by myself.

I reach for anything to bring myself up,
and the water starts to flow.

A trickle at first, uncertain,
then stronger, washing over me.
I let clean water strip away my filth.
I don’t fight it.
I give in.
I let the water wash away my shame,
watching my thoughts swirl down the drain.

As I sit there, I can’t feel my pain,
can’t see my shame,
can’t sense my filth.
I watch everything washing away,
vanishing into the depths.

I feel clean.
I feel alive.
I feel ready to take a step.

A step forward.
A step away from the past.
A step toward something new.

I am ready to be better.