I'm really good at starting over.

Picking up broken pieces and discovering the light in dark places.

I've got this grasp of hope that never fades. It pulses in my palms and Sparks my fingertips.

Yet still sometimes I resist the urge to hang my head in shame, and admit defeat.

Time grows distant when I count the monsters hiding in the shadows.
Always waiting too consume me.

I dust off volumes of myself tucked into forgotten corners at night.
Insomnia my most unwelcome visitor.

I can find comfort in stillness and solitude.

But sometimes...

I wish someone would hold me.

I remind myself alot these days that

I'm so good at starting over.
I'm so good at watching it all fall apart.