i am
healing
the wounds
now.

bit by bit
piece by piece
they sew themselves up,
leaving little bitty scars.

this is not the first time
and it, most likely, will not be the last.

every year the cycle repeats
its ups and downs.

the more familiar i am with the cycles
the more i embrace the darkness.

summer's sunny disposition warms me up
like butter in a microwave and i
melt into some sort of vision of contentment

but sooner than i realize, winter comes again,
angry and cold, to plunge me into its icy depths
where i stay, waiting for some sort of solution
to a problem I rarely address in any serious sort of manner.

they all say, you can't do it on your own.
stubborn natures persevere, fighting against other instincts
that say, this isn't right.

every time I climb back out of the hole where I live,
it is impermanent.
the dark, sorrow-filled, and angry  abyss is my home.

if you have any interest in taking it off my hands,
i hear the price is just right for that sort of neighborhood.